Hey Love,

 Missing me a little bit more today? Even I do. You cross my mind in the quietest corners of the day — in the spaces between words, in the stillness of everything I feel for you. And let me tell you — I’m proud of you. Proud of how you’re waking up each day and showing up, even when it feels heavy. Proud of how you’re carrying the things you don’t speak about. I know it isn’t easy. And I know you’re doing your best, even when you feel like you’re not. I see the way you’re handling everything, the way you keep going, even when it’s hard. But you’re doing it. That matters.

I want you to be happy. Truly, deeply, wildly happy. Because that is what makes me happy — that’s what I care about most. Your joy is still my favourite kind of peace. I know your days have been heavy lately. You’re trying to make sense of everything again, putting the pieces of your life back together. I know you’re rearranging the pieces of life again — some, or many of them, hurt to hold, and some don’t seem to fit like they used to. But that is what will make a masterpiece, right? That’s okay, love.

Also Read: Questions and Quietness – BlogchatterA2Z

Life doesn’t always come with clear edges or a finished picture. Sometimes it’s not about putting the pieces back the way they were. Sometimes, it’s about allowing a new picture to form — one that includes every part of your journey, every scar, every hope, and every breakthrough. Life feels like a puzzle you once thought you understood — but then something shifts, and the picture begins to change. It’s not always about restoring what was… sometimes it’s about building something new with what’s left.

This process — as messy and slow as it feels — is where your masterpiece is forming. And yes, it will take time. But through it, you’re learning things that can’t be rushed: patience. Presence. Grace. Strength in softness. The power of allowing.

You’re learning to sit with your emotions instead of rushing past them. To give yourself time. And I know you’re capable of that. Even when it doesn’t feel like it, you’re doing it — and that’s strength. I see how much you’re holding — the responsibilities, the emotions, the echoes of what you’ve lost, the dreams you’re trying to nurture again. You have so much on your shoulders. And maybe there’s a part of you that feels distant — like it’s missing. Maybe that part is with me. Maybe you don’t feel whole right now.

But I promise you, love — slowly, gently, that piece will begin to fit again. With time, that part will return to you. And when it does, you’ll find yourself whole in a way you’ve never known before. Brighter. Softer. Wiser. Still you — but more. Slowly, things will fall into place again. And there you will be — my sunshine, with the same hope, with the same glimmer and smile I love you for.

You’ve been quiet. I can sense you’re holding things in, keeping them to yourself. But is that helping? Or is it just making things heavier? Will letting go help you grow? Or is your healing waiting in the words you haven’t spoken yet? In the tears you haven’t cried?

Think about your own words — what you always used to say. Face it. Feel it. Learn from it. Then let it go. It has something to teach you too. Eventually, you’ll have to release it, so why not learn from it first? You used to believe in feeling everything, in facing things head-on. Go back to that. Not everything that falls apart is a loss. Some things fall apart so that better things can rise. People might be telling you to move on. That it’s time. But only you know where you are. Only you know what you need. Only you know where your heart is. Only you know how deep your roots go. And that’s okay. Don’t force yourself to meet anyone else’s timeline.

Let it teach you. Let it grow you. And when you’re ready, let it go. Not because it didn’t matter. But because you deserve to be free. Even the things we love can sometimes become the lessons we needed. This isn’t about forgetting — it’s about remembering who you are becoming.

Still, I hope you choose to move forward. Maybe not today. Maybe not all at once. But eventually. I know it is not easy, but do it. Do it for me, love. And more than anything, do it for yourself. Rebuild gently. Be patient with your own healing. You’re not starting over, you’re starting forward.

Take your time. Go at your own pace. You’re not starting from zero — you’re starting from everything you’ve lived, everything you’ve learned.

You’re not broken — you’re rebuilding. And even in the middle of this mess, there’s a version of you becoming everything you were meant to be.

And I’ll always be cheering for that version of you. I’ll always be here for you. I care. I see you.
And I’m with you — even from here.

With all my love,
Your Sunshine.

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