always brings a mix of peace and heartache.
It’s 1:48 PM, and I’m driving, still processing the day. The weather is absolutely beautiful, a soft contrast to yesterday’s chill when it was windy and lightly sprinkling.
Yesterday, Sunday, October 26, I made my way to my beloved daughter’s gravesite. As I stood there looking at her headstone, it felt like both so much time and no time at all had passed. Nine years. It still doesn’t feel real sometimes. The quiet at her resting place always brings a mix of peace and heartache. It’s where I feel closest to her, but it also reminds me how much I miss her.
On Monday, October 27, today, the day of her ninth year passing, I met up with my friend for lunch at Tasty Pot around noon. We laughed, caught up, and talked about all the little dramas that seem to follow women no matter our age, how stable we are, or how busy life gets. There’s always something, some story, some emotion, some lesson.
But when she asked me what I’ve been up to, my mind froze. The only thing I could think of was visiting my daughter’s grave. Saying that out loud felt heavy. When I looked up, I noticed her pause, her eyes softened, and I could see the sadness in her expression. I asked if she was okay, and she just nodded. It was a quiet moment of understanding between friends.
Despite the emotional weight, I’m so thankful for her. She truly is my best friend, one of those rare, genuine people who are just there for you without needing to fix anything. Friendships like that are hard to find, and I don’t take them for granted.
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about the people who have stood by me, and even the ones I’ve had to distance myself from. Some may not understand, but any space I’ve created has always come from a place of love, love for them and love for my children. Every decision I make is rooted in protection and peace.
The world feels heavy right now. Between politics, changing laws, and the way society seems to be shifting, it’s hard not to feel uneasy. Crimes feel different, resources are thinning, and people’s rights are being challenged more than ever. I think about the families struggling to get by, the seniors who have no next phase to look forward to, and the children whose parents are just trying to make ends meet.
I’m grateful for the love and support that surround me, but I’ve also learned that even love can sometimes be enabling. It can hold you back from realizing your own strength. Still, I’m thankful for every helping hand, every listening ear, and every moment where I get to set down the weight I carry, even for a little while.
As I get older, I realize how much harder it is to be truly heard. People assume that by now we should “know better,” but the truth is, no one has it all figured out. We’re all just doing the best we can, learning, falling, and growing along the way. Change, even the kind that hurts, can sometimes be what fixes the broken parts of our lives and our world.
So I hold on to faith that those with influence and power are making decisions for the greater good, that somehow all of this shifting and struggling will lead us toward something better.
Today, Monday, October 27, I find myself just reflecting on visiting her gravesite yesterday. I hope things get better. I hope the world becomes a little softer. And I hope that one day we can all feel safe, secure, and at peace again.
Dear Diary, 