03/04/2026
đšTRIGGERING CONTENT AND IMAGE đš
I received flowers not that long ago, a gesture of love, of celebration, and a sweet reminder of a promise.
What I did not expect, was to sit here in silence a month after the fact and unpack the grief that sent waves all through my body. How could one small, heartfelt gesture provoke such a reaction? And then it hit me, as the tears poured down my face. Flowers are a trigger.
I used to love flowers. I used to love spring, I used to love writing. I used to love singing, dancing, sewing, theater, and just creating in general. There was so much I loved before my daughter died. And somewhere along the way, it all died with her. I think I forgot that it did.
But today was a calling to remember, the smells, the colors, the quiet symbolic nature of their presence. And suddenly I was right back there. Just enough to feel it in my chest. Enough to relive the horrific wails that escaped my mouth. Enough to remember the agony that shot through every ounce of my being.
Grief is strange like that. It doesnât just take the person you love. It takes the version of you that existed when they were here. Sometimes I have these small flashbacks. Not always the big, scary, traumatic ones. Sometimes itâs just a memory of who I used to be. And that makes me just as sad. Sometimes I miss the person I was before life let me down.
I miss joy without the shadow.
I miss being blissfully unaware.
But as much as I miss those moments in my past. I also embrace the gift of grief. Iâve come to realize the value in the role Iâve accepted.
And maybe thats the most important part of the journey. Remembering. Allowing myself to notice what changed instead of pretending it didnât. Giving it the voice it always deserved.
Maybe the pieces we loved arenât ever gone. Maybe theyâve just been quietly waiting for a reunion.
Iâm still learning how to meet them again.
This was the last picture ever taken of her â€ïžâđ©č
