Maybe she was simply needed
In another place, too perfect for this one. The
Raw reality of her
Absence still fresh years later. Taken just after
Christmas—the sheer timing cruel. A
Loss so incomprehensible
One so young. Life unrolls in delicate,
Fragile waves, ridden but not understood. We
He has a plan
Even while we
Languish, gasping for air. And then
A reminder. Hope, love, beauty touches the
Depths of a mother’s heart.
Yellow, raw pain soothed as hundreds of ladybugs—
Brilliant red dots of joy—
Grief. If only for a moment.
Grace Grits and Gardening
Farm. Food. Garden. Life.