Lay the heavy stones down

The day is ending, and with it comes the quiet fear that to finally rest is to let go of the pain you've been holding. You worry that if you set down the weight of their memory, you will forget how they felt, how they sounded, how they loved.

But the light does not ask you to carry the grief as proof of your devotion. There was a woman who stood weeping at a tomb, convinced that losing the body meant losing the person entirely.

She did not know that the one she sought was standing right beside her, closer than her own breath. You do not honor them by staying awake in the dark.

The love you share is not made of sorrow; it is made of light, and light cannot be forgotten. Lay the heavy stones down.

The memory is safe, even when your eyes are closed.