Hello, fellow #Hivers! I hope everyone is in the pink of health. It's been a moment of silence, and I seldom post an article on the platform, yet whatever I do, I miss blogging. Here I am today, sharing my thoughts with you.
Happy memories nourish us, carry us through difficult moments of loss, and remind us that our love is essential and meaningful.
My youngest son, who has a disability, is the focus of my attention and time, as my daughter is living elsewhere and has her own family. Despite his physical and intellectual limitations, he exudes enthusiasm and vitality.
My children's true warmth traverses every season and helps to make our house a home, photographs are the bittersweet memories of my days. My children's candid photos bring me so much happiness, plus there are old photos, birthday candles, and many friends. Waves of despair are among the others; they hint at the challenging times to come and the storms I still need to face and overcome. Maybe they should be in a work of art, expressing myself through time, but this is my journey, and I chose them. I select the finest ones and discard others, understanding that they will be the treasured memories I value as I age and that they will be essential to my well-being. The very finest sort of medicine is good recollections.
My son has a clear idea of what happiness is. He gives me hugs and kisses when we wake up in the morning, and I snap pictures of him before we get out of bed and eat breakfast. My son's outbursts and loving kisses—fond recollections seem to get me through when everything else fails. He likes to have his picture taken, and he may sometimes laugh or make a funny face. He was not perfect as a child, but then who is? Is seeking perfection ever appropriate?
My son is a precious gift from God and my most treasured wealth. He came laughing and humming, ready to teach me how to turn my hardships into strength and triumph. For love, he was made. His arrival served as a reminder that I was once as gentle as he was. Every time I looked at him, I could see it in my eyes, but it was felt more intensely inside him because that is how God, who is love, connected him. That was the quality that set each child apart as a gift from our Heavenly Father.
With the loss of my son, I pray to God for the ability to channel His love for me and to share it with my daughter and grandson.
The greatest moments I have to treasure every day are the days I spent bonding with my special needs son and the journey that went along with it.
Life is fleeting, a brief moment in time, while pain seems to endure endlessly. It's akin to the vast expanse of the ocean, never to bask in the warmth of the sun's embrace.
Thank you again for fetching around my blog and allowing me to share with you my unwavering thoughts and unblinking moments. 🌹🕊️
Namaste,
@diosarich 💕🌷
About The Author
A feisty artist and writer who balances her time penning poetry, soul-stirring content and flash fiction, sketching, and designing by using fresh blossoms, needlework, gardening, baking, and caring for her partially impaired vision Mom after her intellectually and physically challenged son passed away. She explores unexpected views that ignite her zest for life.
