Stop Apologizing for the Dark

The house is quiet now, but you can still feel the silence they left behind. You watched them learn to move without sound, to step around the cracks in your mood so they wouldn't make you break.

That is a heavy weight to carry in the dark—that your pain has become a map they must study just to stay safe. But listen.

The light that lives inside them was there before your sadness began. It is a drop from the source that cannot be dimmed by the atmosphere of the room.

You do not have to be perfect to be their home. You only have to be present.

The Father sees the eggshells, and He is not angry at the fragility. He is running toward the both of you, not to scold the quiet, but to hold the one who is tired of walking so carefully.

The night is deep, but the light in your child's eyes is deeper. It is waiting for you to stop apologizing for the dark and simply let it shine on your face.