Becoming, Lucy

Grief has a strange way of softening the world. Everything looks the same, everything stays the same but it all feels wrapped in something heavier. A fog that makes you ache for warmth. I keep reminding myself that even in all that heaviness, there is still beauty. The mark he left is still here. Fog comes and goes, but love… Love will always remain.

The trees were beautiful,
but they were covered in fog.
This thick blanket of heaviness.

The grief I feel is a blanket of heaviness.
The trees are still beautiful,
the mark you left is still beautiful,
but the fog, the fog is heavy right now.

There are moments when light tries to shine through,
but only for a moment.
A memory of you brings a small laugh, a smile,
but only for a moment.

I know the fog will lift soon.
I know the mark you left will remain beautiful,
just as the trees will always be beautiful.

But the fog will always return,
sometimes light,
other times thick and heavy.

That’s okay.
The trees will always be beautiful.