@purieeleen1: I wish my Mom was still here. There are nights when I can’t sleep, when the silence feels too heavy, and I catch myself whispering her name into the dark. She used to be the person I’d run to when I didn’t know what to do, when my heart was breaking, when life felt too much. Now, I just stare at the sky, hoping she’s listening somehow. I miss her voice—the one that could calm any storm inside me. I miss her advice, the kind that came from love, not judgment. I miss her laughter, that soft melody that made everything seem okay again. When she left, it wasn’t just her I lost. I lost the feeling of home. The smell of her cooking, the sound of her prayers, the gentle way she said, “It’s okay, my child.” Those moments are gone, yet they replay in my mind every day, as if my heart refuses to let go. Now, I talk to her in whispers carried by the wind. I tell her about my day, my worries, my dreams. And sometimes, when the sun sets and the sky turns gold, I swear I can feel her there—watching, smiling, proud. I miss you, Mom. More than words, more than time, more than this life could ever measure.

Puriepaul

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Saturday 01 November 2025 19:44:04 GMT