I’ve been sitting with this strange, heavy feeling—the kind that doesn’t always announce itself, but lingers.And I keep circling around one question: Did I ever really know what love was? Not the storybook kind. Not the movie montage.But real love. Soft love. Steady love. Because for so long, love felt like something I had to …
Some days I don’t know if I can do any of this. Not the grieving.Not the parenting.Not the letting go.Not the rebuilding. I sit with these big questions— Why does it seem so easy for him to move on?Why am I still holding the weight of everything while he only carries himself? I try to …