12/12/2025
The ocean whispered a mournful lullaby as two small children stood by their motherβs grave ππ. Their faces were red and swollen from crying, grief too vast for their tiny hearts to hold.
The older brother wrapped his little sister close, both gazing up at the smiling photo of their mother on the headstone β a life vibrant, joyful, now frozen in memory. ποΈπ’
Every Sunday they come, bringing the brightest flowers πΈβ¨, trying to fill the emptiness her absence has left behind. Each visit is a bittersweet reminder of the woman who once tucked them in, held them, loved them endlessly.
Her love remains their anchor ββ€οΈ β beautiful, heartbreaking, eternal.
If you feel this, leave a heart β€οΈ for the little souls who miss her every day.