The silence isn't empty anymore

It's coming up on a year since I lost my buddy, and I keep noticing the quiet has changed shape. Used to be a hole I fell into. Tonight I sat on the porch and carved a spoon out of a piece of oak, and the quiet just... sat there with me. Not waiting for anything. Just present. I think that's what he'd have wanted — not for me to fill it, but to learn which silences can hold you.