Through the Fog

Tag: aunt

  • I Wish You Were Here

    I wish you were here—

    not just in memory,

    not in dreams that vanish with the dawn,

    but here, breathing beside me.

    The nights are longer without you.

    The walls remember your laughter,

    but they don’t echo it right anymore.

    I keep reaching for a ghost

    that won’t reach back.

    Some days, I almost hear your voice,

    soft as wind against my skin,

    and I turn too quickly,

    forgetting—

    it’s just the world moving on without you.

    You should’ve seen the sunrise today.

    It broke through the clouds like hope

    pretending to be light.

    I stood there wishing

    you could’ve felt it too.

    I wish you were here—

    not because I need saving,

    but because some moments

    are too heavy to hold alone.

  • For My Aunt

    For My Aunt

    I’m so grateful for you.

    You’ve always been a strong pillar in my life — steady when everything else was shifting. You’ve loved me in ways that felt like safety, like understanding, like home.

    You’ve been like a mom to me — guiding me, grounding me, reminding me who I am when I start to forget.

    Thank you for showing up, for listening without judgment, for believing in me when I couldn’t believe in myself.

    I know there were times I was hard to handle as a child. I just didn’t understand the different dynamics with you and how it could feel so much like home.

    Your strength has carried me through more storms than you’ll ever know.

    And I hope you realize that every bit of light I find along the way has a little of yours in it.