They leave, and we stay, but not unchanged. At first it can feel like absence, like something essential has been taken. But over time, I realize that what they gave us doesn’t disappear, it becomes the ground beneath what we now grow.
Grief reshapes us. The love, the stories, the silent lessons don’t vanish. They settle into us. And somehow, through us, life keeps unfolding.
I used to think continuity meant holding on. Now I understand it’s more about allowing what was to become part of what is. It’s letting their absence become an opening.
That’s how life goes on. Not by erasing the ones who came before, but by carrying them, quietly, in what we choose to make and tend.
