The harder the love, the harder the grief.

You’d be twelve.

Twelve years of holding hands with grief, learning to walk alongside her, and walking in honor of you.

Befriending grief as the lifelong wonder she is. The uninvited companion who stays because love lived there first. Knowing that she only comes if you’ve chosen to love.

The harder the love, the harder the grief. Because to love hard means to grieve hard. And it is worth it every single time.

Every yearning, every reminder, every pull, every breath is a chance to live their love out loud.

And live it loudly, I will choose.