It is on my heart to thank you.
You, who reads my posts about my momma.
You, who lets me interrupt your day to read about a loss that is so hard that sometimes I lose my balance.
You, that offers up words of encouragement to a girl who feels a bit broken.
You, that reads my posts about ordinary things like travel, followed by something like tears shed in a restaurant.
You, who may have experienced similar things, so you outstretch your hand.
You, who has no idea what this is like, but you show up for me anyway.
You, who gives me space to be me in this tragic loss of my momma.
You, who checks in on me, when the rest of the world forgets.
You, who silently thinks of me or prays for me and I may not even know it.
You, who comments on my posts, when you’ve had your own heartbreak.
You, who wraps me up in compassion and a kindness so warm, that I forget my heart feels ripped in two for awhile.
You, who remembers who I am when my cheeks are stained with tears.
You, who opens yourself up wide and tells me your stories so I know I am not alone.
You, who gives me grace.
You, who lets me cry.
You, who tells me about your grief, so I’ll understand my own.
I see you. I read your comments. I know you are genuine and sincere.
I am grateful.
I have gratitude.
And, I thank you.