A Thread in the Tapestry

A moment of grief, a question to God, and the quiet turning toward self-love. A tapestry woven from tears, music, and the whisper of something deeper.

I was lying on the floor in my office when the tears began — quiet, uninvited, gentle. Poranguí’s Illuminar played in the background, and something in the music opened a door inside me. Grief slipped in, soft at first, then swelling.
Was it loneliness? A longing? A sorrow bigger than I could explain.

I thought of Seth. Of the things I said and didn’t say.
I thought of all the ways I try to be good — a good person, good daughter, good employee, good mother.
Always striving, always holding.
Never asking why. Always doing.

I’ve spent a lifetime performing goodness like a shield — to feel safe, to avoid rejection. As if being good could earn safety.

And in that moment, I caught a glimpse of her — the one who polishes her shield, who longs to rest in just being.
I wrapped myself around her.

I looked out the window, letting my eyes take in some beauty.
The sky was impossibly blue. White clouds drifted past. The plants I had planted — Texas Laurel, Pomegranate, Crape Myrtle — swayed gently with the rhythm of the wind.
It was all so beautiful.
And still... I felt the longing. The ache of being human. Of wanting something more.

I cried — not out of weakness, but out of honesty.
There was no one but me to witness.
Just me and the music and the ache of being alive.

It was as if something deep inside was trying to shape form out of feeling — longing to build meaning,
a map of uncharted territory calling out to me.

I sobbed.
I silently cried out.

God —
Why did you bring Seth into my life?
Why place him in front of me only to ask me to walk alone?

I don't understand...
Was it so I would learn to choose myself?
Was it to show me how often I choose from trauma instead of love?

What am I meant to learn from loving a man on his own journey?
I’ve tried so hard to get it right.

I miss him.
I miss Seth.

And still, I know this path is mine to walk.
I know I’m choosing what’s right — what serves my highest good.

But God… it still hurts.

I wasn’t asking for a different reality.
I just needed to ask why.
I was asking because I was letting go of something I still wanted.

I lay there a little longer. Then I got up to nourish myself.
While making a green smoothie, a song popped into my head — out of nowhere.

“These Words,” by Natasha Bedingfield.
The chorus repeated, almost childlike:

I love you,
I love you,
I love you,
That’s all I got to say…

What else could God say?
Love is the only answer, isn’t it?

I had to smile.
I felt Love — rocking me the way a mother rocks her child.

That moment was a story of Divine love.
It was quiet and simple.
A vow between my soul and the Divine.

An intimacy deeper than form.
A thread in the tapestry of becoming.

A beautiful tapestry, full of color and intricate design I’ve yet to see fully.