memory
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People think griefis the moment someone leaves. They don’t tell youit is every moment after. It is birthdays.It is songs.It is the random Tuesdaywhen you realizethe world kept movingwhen yours stopped. Grief is lovewith nowhere to go. So I carry it. Because I would rathercarry the achethan forget the lovethat created it.
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There are tiny hands that reach for me like I am the safest place in the world. And sometimes they don’t know how heavy my heart has been. They don’t know the battles I fought quietly. The nights I cried without making a sound. The pieces of myself I had to find again. They only…
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The author reflects on the simultaneous joy and grief of motherhood, remembering a daughter lost years ago while cherishing moments with her living children. Despite the passage of time, the love for her departed child persists, intertwined with gratitude for the present, emphasizing that joy and sorrow can coexist in a mother’s heart.
Between Bruises and Blooms 