For me, home is more than just a physical space

it is a feeling, a sense of belonging, a source of comfort

that resides deep within my heart and my soul

when my beloved dad passed away all those years ago

I thought I had lost my home, but I soon realised that

as long as my dearest darling mum was by my side

I still had a home, a place where I felt the security

But when she followed him into the great unknown

I suddenly face a brutal reality, I was now homeless

feeling like a lost child without the home of my heart

despite I still live in the same house we once shared

I wandered in a daze, like a stranger in my own home

the familiar walls of our home felt hollow and empty

a place was deftly shattered by the cruel hand of fate

In the empty rooms and silent corridors of our home

I searched so desperately for a place to call my own

I sought traces of the love that once filled the space

but all I found were complete desolation and despair

the haunting echoes of a past that no longer existed

to me, home was always wherever my parents were

without them, a mere shell of the home it once was

In the midst of my grief, I struggled to come to terms

with the idea that home could exist without my parents

it was not lack of a roof over my head made me homeless

but the profound absence of their extraordinary presence

the heartbeat of our family, the very essence of our home

no longer did the familiar surroundings provide solace

instead, served as painful reminders of what I had lost