The world didn’t stop. It kept turning, kept moving forward, as though nothing had changed. But for me, everything had. I remember stepping outside that tragic morning, my heart shattered beyond words. My neighbor stood in his yard, watering his flowers, exclaiming about what a beautiful June day it was. I could barely comprehend his words. How could anything be beautiful in this moment? My voice came out flat, almost detached from the reality crashing around me:“Well, my son just died, so I don’t know how beautiful a day it is.” Grief has a way of making everything around you feel distant, like you’re watching life from behind a thick pane of glass. You see it, but you’re not part of it. You exist in a different space—one that is heavy with sorrow and filled with deafening silence. Had God forgotten me? I had always believed in His presence, but grief has a way of testing even the deepest faith. If God was with me, why did I feel so alone? Why did my prayers seem to go unanswered? And how was I even supposed to pray in this kind of pain? What does one say to the Almighty when