Grief & Loss
Poetry for the losses that change a life—child loss, pregnancy loss, remembrance, anniversaries, and the love that keeps existing after goodbye.
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Each time The Star appears, hope looks less like an abstract symbol and more like a daughter still finding ways to shine.
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Soon,the clockwill find midnight again. The seventeenthwill fold itselfinto the eighteenth,and the worldwill behaveas thoughnothing importanthas happened. There will be dishesto wash. Childrento tuck into bed. Messagesthat need answering. The ordinary workof being alive. And I will do it. Because I have learnedthat survivingdoes not meanleaving you behind. But tonight,before the date changes,I want one…
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When the remembrance candle goes dark, the ritual ends but the daughter it honored does not disappear with the flame.
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There are four childrengrowing up around me. Four livesthat fill my dayswith noise,questions,laughter,and exhaustion. Four reasonsto get out of bedwhen the worldfeels too heavy. But there havealways been five. Five childrenwho made mea motherin five different ways. And I refuseto pretendthat only the oneswho call my namedeserve to be counted. You do not needa bedroomto…
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The post reflects a mother’s heartfelt tribute to her daughter on what would have been her eleventh birthday. Although her daughter lived only three and a half hours, her memory remains deeply cherished. The mother expresses enduring love and gratitude, highlighting the lasting impact of her daughter’s brief life.
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Pleasedon’t tell melosing youmade me stronger. I know peoplelike to makebeautiful thingsout of terrible endings. They want griefto have a purpose. A lesson.A reason.Somethingthat makes the crueltyeasier to understand. But I did not needto bury a futureto learnhow deeplyI could love. I did not needto lose my daughterto becomea better mother. I would have learnedpatiencewhile…
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In the quiet before the evening candle is lit, a mother prepares to hold love and grief in the same small flame.
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There are songsI wish I could havesung to you. Not onlythe soft ones. The ridiculous onesmothers make upwhile rockinga sleepy child. Songs about messy hair,missing socks,and the little facesbabies makewhen they are determinednot to sleep. I wonderwhich songswould have comforted you. Which onesyou would eventuallybeg meto stop singing. I wonderwhether you wouldhave loved musicthe way…
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Somewhere,there is a ladybugcrawling overa blade of grass. A tiny red thingcarrying its black-spotted bodythrough a worldtoo largeto notice it. Before you,I never knewsomething so smallcould becomeso sacred. Now,I see a little flashof redand thinkof my daughter. I thinkof the cruel differencebetween somethingbeing delicateand somethingbeing disposable. You were delicate. But neverdisposable. You were herefor only…
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A short life does not make a daughter temporary; her name still belongs in the family, in the counting, and in every version of home.
