Sit With Me Awhile

When I look back on the hardest season of my life, I realize something quietly powerful.

I wasn’t healing alone.

My son was there through all of it.

Not in the way adults show up for each other with long conversations and advice.
But in the way only children can—through presence, honesty, and small everyday moments that carry more meaning than they realize.

There were days when my heart felt heavy in ways I couldn’t explain.

But children don’t measure life by heartbreak or regret.
They measure it by moments.

And because of that, my son taught me things about healing that I didn’t even realize I needed to learn.

He taught me that laughter can return when you least expect it.

There were days when I didn’t think I could smile, and then he would say something silly or laugh at something small, and suddenly the heaviness would lift just enough for me to breathe again.

He taught me how to stay present.

Children don’t live in the past.
They don’t spend hours replaying conversations or wondering what could have been.

They live in the moment they’re standing in.

And slowly, by simply being himself, he reminded me how to do the same.

He taught me that showing up matters more than being perfect.

There were days when I didn’t feel strong.

Days when I questioned whether I was doing anything right.

But my son never asked for perfection.

He just wanted me there.

And sometimes, showing up is the bravest thing we can do.

Most of all, he reminded me why healing matters.

Because our children watch how we move through pain.

They see how we fall, how we stand back up, and how we keep going.

My son may never fully understand how much he helped guide me through that chapter of my life.

But one day I hope he knows this:

Even when my heart was breaking, loving him made me stronger.

And through his eyes, I remembered that life still held joy, curiosity, and possibility.

Sometimes the people who teach us the most about healing are the ones who don’t even realize they’re doing it.