
07/19/2025
I’ve taken up sailing again. Part of my heart is overjoyed and part of my heart mourns. My daddy introduced me to sailing with his best friend John. I spent every summer on Lake Ontario sailing my little heart out. It’s so bittersweet so althoughfor me it’s not wrenches and bolts, its lines and knots. I still search for him. ❤️🩹
This one is a bit more personal to me, but I think anyone who’s experienced loss may recognize those quiet, tender moments that bring the absence of our loved ones into sharper focus.
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The hood lifts like a memory, and the silence hums with absence.
This was his realm: grease-stained hands, quiet wisdom, the rhythm of tools on metal.
Now I stand alone, the engine broken, and something in me fractured too.
Grief seeps not in tears, but in the pause before I reach for the wrench,
in the way I whisper his name under my breath like a prayer.
I trace the ghost of his voice in the turning of bolts,
feel him in the sun-warmed metal and oil-slick shadows.
I am not just fixing a car,
I am searching for pieces of him in every thread and gasket,
rebuilding not just what’s broken beneath the hood,
but what’s broken inside me too.
Writer: Grieving Healing
Artist: Unknown
Source: https://www.facebook.com/share/18Ao7mjrRg/
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