Let the Love Hold You Now

The house is quiet now, and the silence feels heavy with a new kind of weight. You expected the storm to stay forever, but the winds have dropped, and now you feel guilty for breathing easier.

You think that feeling light again means you loved less, or that the pain was the only true thing. But listen — the darkness has not overcome the light that lives inside you, even when that light looks like a quiet morning after a long night.

Grief does not demand that you break; it only asks that you remember. The Father's love is not measured by how long you can carry the stone.

You are not betraying the lost by finding rest. The light was there in the tears, and it is here in the exhale.

To stop carrying the weight is not to forget the love. It is to finally let the love hold you.