This is a post I keep writing in my diary. I wrote it during the covid shutdown.
- There’s been a lot. Too many. So many. But, I like to believe the people we lose don’t really leave. They turn into wishing stars and soft pieces of stardust, scattered around just above us.
They become the quiet wishes people make without even realizing it. The little prayers whispered into the dark. The hope held in someone’s chest when they look up at the night sky.
I like to think they’re still there, just higher now. Watching. Listening. Loving us from a different place.
Sometimes I stand outside when the world is still and the air feels soft and gentle, and I look up and talk to them. I tell them everything. I tell them I miss them. I tell them I’m trying.
And somehow, I know I’ll see them again. It feels inevitable, like tides, like seasons, like love finding its way back.
Someday, I think, I’ll be up there too. Just another wishing star, still loving the people I left behind.
