Go to the water - A small release, a big step.
This morning, before I left the rainforest, I went to the river to talk to you. I woke up carrying a message deep in my chest: share him with the rainforest.
I’ve been carrying you everywhere I go, holding you so tightly that sometimes the weight has pressed the air out of me. When I was in Belize, I climbed to the top of the temple and whispered for your help. From that high place, surrounded by the ancestors, I asked for relief from this sadness that had been crushing me. I didn’t ask to forget you. I could never. I only asked to be able to move—to step out from under the cloud and still carry your love.
Today, you led me to the river. And just like the ancestors have always whispered—go to the water—I listened. I stood at the edge, and I let a small piece of you go.
The water carried it away, but not in a way that erased you. It felt more like a conversation: me releasing, the river receiving, the rainforest echoing back. A sacred exchange that reminded me grief is not only heavy—it can also flow.
In that moment, I made a step forward. Not away from you. Not into forgetting. But forward into the light, with you still by my side.
Lately, I’ve also been sitting with what it means to carry you in new ways. I moved my wedding ring to my other hand. A small gesture, but one that holds so much meaning. Because I will be your wife eternally. I will always be the one and only in your life, until death do us part—and even beyond that line, I know your love is forever. I know you will continue to guide me.
The rain cloud lifted just enough for me to breathe differently. To see differently. To carry you differently.
And so, I go on. With the rainforest, the temple, the river, the ancestors, my ring, and you—all guiding me into this next chapter.
Forever yours,
J