Million little miracles

I was devastated.
Hurt.
I didn’t want to eat.

Sleep evaded me—
My soul wandered in the dark
searching for peace
and finding none.

Then one day,
my aunt held my hand and said:
"My husband died,
but I know he would want me to smile again,
for the kids…
not cry every day."
(RIP, Uncle.)

Her words melted inside me,
softening something I thought
had broken forever.

But others—
they said, “Get over it.”
As if losing a child
was anything like forgetting
a misplaced item.
As if grief
had an expiration date.

I lost my son.
He lives in heaven now.

But God…
God is good. I swear.

In time,
I was blessed again—
a bundle of light,
a whispered miracle,
my Ava. 💕

I prayed.
I wept.
And still,
He heard me.