Letting go isn’t just letting go of them.

Letting go isn’t just letting go of them.

It’s letting go of the family dinners. The visits with the grandbabies. Making pies together at Thanksgiving. Dropping off soup when they’re sick. Grabbing something at the store that reminded you of them and having somewhere to bring it.

It’s letting go of a million future moments that were supposed to be yours.

Milestones you won’t get to celebrate.

Setbacks you won’t get to talk them through. The chance to look them in the eye and say - you are unstoppable. This does not define you.

That’s why we hold on. That’s why letting go feels impossible.

Because it’s not just one goodbye. It’s a thousand small ones. Piece by piece. Moment by moment.

And unlike a death, there’s no closure.

Just the lingering what if - taunting you.

You’re not in denial. You are grieving something real.

But here’s what I want you to hear:

Moving forward doesn’t mean giving up on them. It doesn’t mean closing the door. It doesn’t mean the love stops.

It means you stop letting the waiting be the only thing you are.

It means you start tending to YOU - your healing, your faith, your life, so that when reconciliation comes, you’re whole enough to receive it.

God is not asking you to stop loving them. He’s asking you to trust Him with what you can’t carry.

You are not just an estranged mother.

You are still someone with a future. With purpose. With a story that isn’t over.

This season is not your ending. It’s where God does some of His most quiet, most sacred work.

Let Him.