There are no flowers big enough
to fill the silence where laughter used to live.
No cards
that know what to say
to a heart that remembers
and aches
in the same beat.
You are still a mother—
not because your child is here,
but because love never needed
a pulse to be real.
You hold birthdays
only memory can unwrap.
You speak names
this world may not echo anymore.
But still,
you speak.
And that’s enough.
You are seen.
You are sacred.
You are the kind of strong
this world will never quite understand.

aj gabriel