And though she’s gone, I still feel her presence in small moments — in the smell of lavender, in a handwritten note, in the quiet stillness of early morning light. She taught me that love doesn’t end when someone leaves; it continues in the way we choose to love others after they’re gone.
If you’re lucky enough to have someone in your life who reaches out — even with the smallest message — take a moment to listen. Ask how they are. Send the note. Make the call.
My grandmother’s last lesson wasn’t about loss — it was about living with love, while we still can.
