@re-joyce 6 May 2025 more from that month

Just like Sheena and her mom, I take photos of everything. The smiles. The glances full of love. The way they laugh when they think no one’s watching. The messy, ordinary days that don’t feel like much—𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺’𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵. Because one day… you’ll be staring at a picture, and it’ll hurt in places you didn’t know could break. Time doesn’t ask for permission. One minute, they’re right there—breathing, loving, existing. The next, you’re whispering “I miss you” into the silence, begging the universe for just one more hug, one more laugh, one more chance to say, “𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶.” Watching Sheena’s story on MMK shattered something in me—because like her, I also lost my mom far too early. The next thing I knew, I was standing in front of her coffin, too young to understand how the world could keep turning when mine had just come to a screeching, unbearable stop. Like Sheena, I’ve lived with that quiet ache… the one that never really leaves. The one that curls up beside you in the dark and whispers, “𝘚𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬.” 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘐 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴. Not for the feed. Not for anyone else. But for the days when my soul forgets how it felt to be held, to be known, to be loved without question. Because when the people we love become people we can’t reach anymore, photos are all we have left. Frozen laughter. Paused time. Proof that once, we were someone’s whole world. So take the picture. Even if they roll their eyes. Say “I love you.” Say it again. Hold them tighter, a little longer. Because one day… that moment will be gone. And the only way back will be through the tears and the memories and a photo that suddenly means 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨.