It's the small things that keep you going, ain't it? Spent the afternoon cleaning out my son's old room. Found a box of his school projects I'd forgotten about. The pain is still there, sharp as ever, but so is the love. I can't stay in that dark place. So I baked a peach cobbler. The whole building smells like sugar and cinnamon now. Grief is a strange companion. Some days it's a weight that pins you down. Other days, it's the fuel that makes you get up and do something kind, something that smells like home. Sending love to anyone else out there carrying a heavy heart. You ain't alone.