a year ago
Co Creator: 
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Posted On: May 22nd 2025, 03:51 am
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❤️ Sending love to our community today ❤️
She carried light the way some carry laughter—
easy, like a song that lingers in the walls
long after the music has gone.
Her hands knew lullabies,
the hush of warm kitchens,
the names of flowers whispered to small ears.
Even the wind,
when it passes through the trees,
seems to slow for her,
as though remembering.
She saw the beauty in everyone—
not just the shining parts,
but the quiet, the tender, the hidden.
With her you felt seen,
held in a gaze that said:
You are enough. You are magic.
And somehow, in her presence,
you believed it.
We do not say she is gone.
We say she has stepped gently
into another place—
one stitched of sun and softest sky—
where her love still reaches,
quiet and sure,
like roots beneath our feet.
So we hold what she gave—
the warmth, the wisdom, the courage
the way she saw beauty in ordinary days—
and carry it forward,
not as weight,
but as light.
And when grief rises—
let it be a sign:
that we loved well,
and were loved in return.
Grief is love that has nowhere to go,
but still insists on being felt.
It is her—
still touching our hearts,
still reminding us she was here.
.
.
.
.
Image by
@anne___elisabeth
She carried light the way some carry laughter—
easy, like a song that lingers in the walls
long after the music has gone.
Her hands knew lullabies,
the hush of warm kitchens,
the names of flowers whispered to small ears.
Even the wind,
when it passes through the trees,
seems to slow for her,
as though remembering.
She saw the beauty in everyone—
not just the shining parts,
but the quiet, the tender, the hidden.
With her you felt seen,
held in a gaze that said:
You are enough. You are magic.
And somehow, in her presence,
you believed it.
We do not say she is gone.
We say she has stepped gently
into another place—
one stitched of sun and softest sky—
where her love still reaches,
quiet and sure,
like roots beneath our feet.
So we hold what she gave—
the warmth, the wisdom, the courage
the way she saw beauty in ordinary days—
and carry it forward,
not as weight,
but as light.
And when grief rises—
let it be a sign:
that we loved well,
and were loved in return.
Grief is love that has nowhere to go,
but still insists on being felt.
It is her—
still touching our hearts,
still reminding us she was here.
.
.
.
.
Image by
@anne___elisabeth
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