When you notice the light.

Today I am grateful.

Grateful to be alive.

Grateful to breathe.

Grateful for this moment.

Despite it all.

Because of it all.

Love doesn’t disappear when someone leaves.

It stays on — through the memories I carry and share, or in the way I show up in life.

The traditions I keep, the behaviour I model, how I interact with others.

The loving presence I sometimes feel. Or often.

It’s like a soft embrace, gentle, yet with so much strength. Reassuring me I’m loved. I’m held, so I can love and hold myself and others.

That’s when I remember my mum, that’s when I feel our love.

Love never leaves but waits patiently for me to open my heart and receive.

If my mum could see me today, she would smile.

She would put her arms around me, grateful that I am choosing life, choosing myself.

That I breathe, deeply, and give myself grace, allowing myself to be with all that I am — the numbness, the joy, the tears, the laughter.

Stepping forward on the path that is mine, knowing she’s there, walking beside me.

Those who have left this earth, left us—they don’t want us to suffer.
They want us to thrive and enjoy life as much as we can.

But it’s hard.

Still, I try and ask myself:

Do I believe that somewhere out there my sister watches over me? That she is at peace and wishes nothing but the best for me?

For me to move on and make the most of my life, to cherish the small things, the glimmers all around me, just as much as the big things?

I have to sit with this, allow myself to taste these words, feel how they resonate within me.

Do I want to believe it?
Yes, with all my heart.

Do I actually believe it?
I’m not sure.
I ponder, then become still.
I listen. And wait.

From deep down, an answer rises.

Yes. I do believe.

And that gives me peace.