IronButterflyHD

  Some days, grief is heavy in your hands.  Sour. Sharp. Unshakable.  Its scent lingers,  its tang presses against your tongue  even when you try to ignore it. You cannot dress it up.  You cannot soften it or sweeten it  to make it easier to swallow.  You can only hold it,  let it sting,  let it sit with you. And in letting it be,  you learn something profound:  that grief is tied to love,  and that both deserve to be felt. You honor what you have lost  and what you still carry.  The weight, the sting, the flavor. All of it is part of remembering. ------------------------------------------ This metaphor will be featured in an upcoming book.    Find my first book,  Grief is Like a Donut,  on Amazon: Grief is Like a Donut   offers gentle support for those navigating the heartache of loss. Beautifully illustrated and poetic, this book uses metaphors, and images to reflect the confusion, numb...

  From the outside, it looks whole. Sweet. Refreshing. Safe. But once you bite in, the seeds show up. Small and bitter,  hidden where you least expect them. You want the sweetness without the pain, but grief doesn’t serve it that way. It never separates the two. So you eat around them. You work through the bitterness to get back to the sweetness. Again and again. The sweetness reminds  you of what was good. The bitterness reminds  you of what mattered. And the love that made it sweet  still is. ------------------------------------------ This metaphor will be featured in an upcoming book.    Find my first book,  Grief is Like a Donut,  on Amazon: Grief is Like a Donut   offers gentle support for those navigating the heartache of loss. Beautifully illustrated and poetic, this book uses metaphors, and images to reflect the confusion, numbness, and unexpected pockets of sweetness that grief can bring. Perfect for times when focus is difficul...

  Everything is quiet now, long shadows stretching across the sand. The day is ending without asking you. The sandcastle waits to be washed away. But you are still here. Kneeling at the edge of what you built, watching the water creep closer. You know the tide is coming. You know you cannot stop it. And still you stay, smoothing the edges, filling the cracks, buying just a little more time with what remains. Everyone else is ready for the next season. You are not. You are still here at the waterline, hands in the sand, because what was built here deserves more than a quiet goodbye. ------------------------------------------ This metaphor will be featured in an upcoming book.    Find my first book,  Grief is Like a Donut,  on Amazon: Grief is Like a Donut   offers gentle support for those navigating the heartache of loss. Beautifully illustrated and poetic, this book uses metaphors, and images to reflect the confusion, numbness, and unexpected pockets of swe...

 Some days it tightens everything  until breathing feels shallow,  until even small moments  require more strength than you have. Other days it loosens without warning, and you come apart quietly, pieces of you slipping loose before you realize what stirred the memory. You cannot stop the turning. You cannot force it to hold. So you learn a different way to live, moving gently with the tension, steadied by what remains. Not because the pressure is gone, but because your love grows stronger where it keeps turning. ------------------------------------------ This metaphor will be featured in an upcoming book.    Find my first book,  Grief is Like a Donut,  on Amazon: Grief is Like a Donut   offers gentle support for those navigating the heartache of loss. Beautifully illustrated and poetic, this book uses metaphors, and images to reflect the confusion, numbness, and unexpected pockets of sweetness that grief can bring. Perfect for times when foc...