What did the grief do to you? Tell me about the parts death stole. What did you bury? Raise your hands upward. Open palms. Let it feel like mercy. Believe your own words when you repeat, “I am still here, I am still a breathing being”. You’re a shell of who you once were. That’s how this goes. That’s the only blueprint I can give you. That’s part of the story. Rewrite the next page before life does it for you. It had a way of clawing at the past- making nostalgia permeate everything new. Don’t let it. Honor it. Be happy all the beauty unfolded how it did. Move on with that same mercy you hold in your palms. Use it for good, even though death gave you every reason not to. -AMT ©️