A Good Day and Then...

It was a good day.

The kind where the sun shows up just right and the summer flowers are in full bloom. The kind where dinner feels simple and good, sweet corn on the cob that's perfectly in season. The kind of day where you think, maybe I’m okay today.

And then…

I was going through a few of my mom’s things after work when I came across a sweater. Cornflower blue, the exact shade of the famous blue crayon. I had picked it out for her. I remember imagining how beautiful that bright color would look on her, how soft and cozy it would feel wrapped around her shoulders. It would feel like a hug from me on the days I wasn't with her.

After she passed, I knew I needed that sweater back. I didn’t even fully understand why—only that I did. When I picked it up today, I prayed that it would still smell like her even after a few months have gone by.

It did.

Her familiar scent (Amazing Grace by Philosophy) was still there, woven into the fabric. A scent I used to tease her about, thinking she might have applied it just a little too generously some days. And yet, today, I am so deeply grateful that she did.

I held the sweater in my hands, feeling its softness, and brought it to my face. I inhaled.

And there she was.

Only… she wasn’t.

And just like that, I unraveled.

The sobs came hard and fast, like the day she died all over again. The kind of crying that takes over the whole body and surprises you with its force and its depth.

Because that is the thing about grief.

You can have a good day.

A really good day.

And then, without warning, grief reaches out and grabs hold of you. It doesn’t ask permission. It doesn’t wait for a convenient moment. It simply arrives, and suddenly you are in the eye of the storm.

That is a day in the life of someone who is grieving.

If you are walking this road, please know that I am walking it with you. Even when it doesn’t always make sense, we learn that we can

hold both life-shattering sadness and small, genuine smiles within the very same 24 hours.

It can feel unsettling when it happens., and even a little scary.

But we are not alone.

Not in the beauty of the good days.

And not in the breaking open that sometimes follows.

Even here, Light lives.