Her children became my compass. In their faces, I saw her expressions echo back at me: the same determination, the same humor, the same vulnerability. They carried her forward in ways both obvious and subtle. One laughed exactly as she used to. Another furrowed their brow when thinking, just as she always did. Sitting with them, I understood that love does not vanish; it changes shape. It disperses, settles, finds new places to live.
There were days when the weight felt unbearable. Grief does not announce itself politely; it arrives while folding laundry, while standing in a grocery aisle, while hearing a song she loved. It catches you unprepared and leaves you breathless. But there were also moments of unexpected steadiness. Times when I felt her strength beside me, urging me to keep my footing, to trust that surviving loss does not mean betraying love. Continue reading…
