When Heaven Weeps and the Sun Breaks Through
Last night the rain woke me. It was as if heaven still felt my broken heart. Today it has rained on and off, each drop like a tear falling from above. I couldn’t help but wonder—are they weeping with me?
Time doesn’t erase wounds. What it really does is teach you to walk with them. Some days, the scar only pulls a little. Other days, like today, it reopens and bleeds fresh. Healing isn’t linear—it’s a cycle of scabs, scars, and re-openings. That doesn’t mean weakness. It means humanity.
And yet, here I am. Still walking. Even if it feels like the Via Dolorosa—step after step, carrying a weight no one else can see. That’s not failure. That’s fierce resilience.
Today marks eight years. The scars have not erased the pain, no matter what others might assume. They don’t know the loss of a child. They don’t know the backstory that made it even more unbearable.
But today was a start. I shared her blog—her words, her story. And now I feel a burning desire to continue it. To let the world know of her bravery. To remind others that dangers aren’t always distant or foreign. They exist quietly, in our own communities, often hidden in plain sight.
As I wrote these words, the clouds broke, and the sun poured through. Was it heaven’s approval? Was it Liz whispering, “Tell my story”?
I don’t know.
But I do know this: I will.
— Jen 🪷💙
👑 Read her story —> Happily Never After - When Sandcastles Fall