Breathing through Grieving

04/17/2026

This. . . 💔

My mom, she tells a lot of lies.
She never did before.
But from now until she dies,
She'll tell a whole lot more.
Ask my mom how she is,
And because she can't explain,
She will tell a little lie
Because she can't describe the pain.

Ask my mom how she is,
She'll say that she's alright.
If that's the truth, then tell me,
Why does she cry each night?

Ask my mom how she is,
She seems to cope so well.
She doesn't have a choice, you see.
Nor the strength enough to yell.

Ask my mom how she is,
"I'm fine, I'm well, I'm coping."
For God's sake mom, just tell the truth.
Just say your heart is broken.

She will love me all her life.
I sure loved her all of mine,
But if you ask her how she is
She'll lie and say she's fine.

I am here in Heaven,
I cannot hug her from here.
If she lies to you, don't listen.
Hug her and hold her near.

On the day we meet again,
We'll smile and I'll be bold.
I'll say, "You're lucky you got in here mom,
With all the lies you told!"

-Author: Joanne Burr❤️

04/13/2026

True!!! The anger heats up without any warning sometimes. It scares me but I know it is grief.

04/09/2026

03/08/2026

🤍✨🤍

02/28/2026

Two pale flowers rise from muted earth,
soft and fragile—
yet standing.

Losing a child
is not a wound that heals neatly.
It is a fracture in the center of your being.

You may smile.
You may go to work.
You may answer messages
and attend gatherings.

But inside,
there is a quiet unraveling
that no one else can see.

Each day asks you to keep living
while carrying the unimaginable.
And some days,
that alone is heroic.

Yes, it can feel like
losing your soul.

But even in that devastation,
love remains—
fierce, unbreakable,
woven into every breath you take.

You are not weak for feeling it.
You are a parent
who loved deeply.

And that love
will always matter.

—Grieving With Love

02/28/2026

Grief teaches you things you never wanted to learn. But it also proves that love outlasts death. It just changes form. 🖤

02/27/2026

This is TRUE

01/13/2026

True 💔

My hand stays open beneath the pale sky,
as if holding air might still be useful.
Nothing lands, but I don’t close it.
I learned long ago not to rush release.

The butterflies drift where answers should be,
light enough to move without permission.
I watch them like I once watched you sleep,
memorizing quiet so it won’t leave me.

Time keeps asking me to adjust my posture,
to stand straighter inside the world.
But a mother’s body remembers its shape,
even when what it carried is unseen.

Every ordinary moment has a shadow edge—
grocery lines, empty chairs, sunsets.
Pain doesn’t shout; it settles in,
takes notes, stays forever.

I don’t measure years anymore.
I measure distance from your laugh.
Some days it’s unbearable,
some days it’s just constant.

So I live like this—hand open,
heart fluent in absence.
Love didn’t lessen with time;
it learned how to breathe quietly.
— Angels Are Near