The house is quiet in a way that feels wrong.
You can still hear their voice in your head—clear as day—yet the room itself has gone flat, like the air got drained out with them. You stare at the phone. You stare at the chair they used to sit in. You keep thinking, If I could just get one sign… one message… one last sentence.
Grief makes people do desperate things. Not because they’re crazy. Because they’re hurting. Because silence feels like punishment.
And that’s exactly why the Bible puts up guardrails. Not to mock your pain, and not to scare you for fun—but to keep you from walking into something that doesn’t heal you, doesn’t help them, and can leave you more tangled than before.
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