There’s a certain kind of grief that feels like regret. A kind of grief that slithers across our awareness and shows us what we wish to unsee: we let the moment slip through the fingers with trivial distractions and we missed what was truly important — to love and be loved.
This grief is the shadow of your love’s light. It doesn’t matter how many I love you’s were said, jars of homemade granola gifted, or hugs given; it never feels enough. Its existence will prevail as long as love grows.
Perhaps this grief is the wake-up call we’ve been waiting for, reminding us of the art of expressing love. Sometimes we need to die a little to live fully.
Ana Juma
There’s a certain kind of grief that feels like regret. A kind of grief that slithers across our awareness and shows us what we wish to unsee: we let the moment slip through the fingers with trivial distractions and we missed what was truly important — to love and be loved.
This grief is the shadow of your love’s light. It doesn’t matter how many I love you’s were said, jars of homemade granola gifted, or hugs given; it never feels enough. Its existence will prevail as long as love grows.
Perhaps this grief is the wake-up call we’ve been waiting for, reminding us of the art of expressing love. Sometimes we need to die a little to live fully.
1 year ago | [YT] | 28