In that moment, I became a child of the ruins

I truly did not believe I would survive this loss

I was certain my heart would simply refuse to

beat in a world without my beautiful Mum

certain my bones would splinter under the

weight of her sudden absence, certain my grief

this vast, hungry thing, would utterly destroy me

In those early days, I could barely see beyond the

next hour, or picture a future without her, there was

only the decision to wake up, again and again, even

when my heart begged to stay curled in the darkness

and my body kept battling while my soul wailed

yet here I stand, living, writing, somehow, because

survival was not a choice, but an autonomic rebellion

I do not say it with pride, but with wonder, truly

I do not know how I survived, there was no grand

turning point, no profound awakenings, but only

breath, and then another, and another, no matter

how hard, how lonely, how relentless the ache was

I survived by instinct, by the strength I found in myself

one that does not roar, but simply refuses to disappear

I believe what saved me, little by little, was realising

that grief is not a punishment for love, it is love

it is the shape love takes when the person I adore

is no longer here to receive it, but every breath I take

every tear I let fall, every step I walk in spite of it all

that is survival, and survival, in the shadow of such

impossible loss, is nothing short of a quiet miracle