04/13/2026
Grief is a strange thing. It doesn’t stay in one place or show itself the same way twice. Some days it feels quiet, like a soft reminder sitting in the corners of everything I do. Other days it is loud in ways I can’t control, showing up in the middle of ordinary moments and turning them into something I can’t quite hold without feeling the weight of what’s missing.
Time doesn’t feel the same anymore. It stretches in some places and disappears in others. Moments that used to feel small now feel sacred, and things I never thought twice about now carry a meaning I can’t unsee. It’s like the world kept moving, but something in me learned how to notice it all differently.
In this season of life, I find myself asking questions I don’t always have answers for. Why things had to change the way they did. Why some people only get certain moments and not the ones we wish they could have stayed for longer. And how something so permanent can still feel so unreal some days.
There is a kind of ache that comes with loving someone deeply enough to miss them in everything. I see them in the quiet in-between moments, in the way the wind moves through like a memory passing by, in the smallest signs that somehow feel bigger now than they ever did before.
And even though I don’t always want to accept it, there is a pain that reminds me I am still here. Still carrying them. Still living in a way that holds onto everything they gave me. Their love didn’t leave with them it stayed, and it shows up in the way I move through the world now, in everything I do and everything I hope to become.
So I try to live in a way that honors that. To find meaning in the days that feel heavy, to keep going even when it hurts, and to hold onto the belief that love like that doesn’t end it just changes where it lives.
I love you to the moon and back.
