20/04/2026
Don't silence me when I talk about them.
I know it makes you uncomfortable. I know you don't know what to say. I know it's easier for you when I keep it light and don't bring them up.
But I need to talk about them.
So, when I mention their name, don't change the subject. Don't redirect the conversation. Don't suddenly remember something else you need to tell me.
Just listen.
When I tell a story about them, don't look away. Don't get that uncomfortable look on your face. Don't try to wrap it up quickly with "that's nice" so we can move on to something less heavy.
Just let me finish.
When I laugh remembering something funny they did, don't act surprised that I'm not crying. Don't tell me "it's good to see you smiling." Don't make it awkward.
Just laugh with me.
Because talking about them isn't me falling apart. It's not me being stuck. It's not me refusing to move forward.
It's me keeping them alive in the only way I can now.
Through stories. Through memories. Through saying their name out loud instead of letting the world forget they existed.
And when you silence me—when you change the subject, when you look uncomfortable, when you act like mentioning them is something I shouldn't do—
You're telling me I should pack them away like they never existed. That grieving them quietly is better than loving them out loud.
And I can't do that.
They were here. They were real. And I'm not going to pretend they never existed just to make you more comfortable.
So let me talk about them.
Let me say their name. Let me tell their story. Let me keep their memory alive.
That's what love looks like now for me.
And I'm not going to apologize for it.
Written by: Aimee Suyko - In Their Footsteps
