Paul Rees - Civil Celebrant

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Just tall grass and a flat gray horizon, nothing dramatic about it — which somehow feels like the most honest way to say this.

I will always keep talking about you. Your name isn't something I'm going to let go quiet just because you're not here to hear it anymore.

You deserve to be remembered, plainly and often, not just on the hard anniversaries.

💔💜😔

A butterfly resting on a bent stem — small, delicate, still holding on even as the whole plant curves under its weight.

I understand now why you kept telling me to be strong. You weren't preparing me for hard days in general. You were preparing me for this exact one, the one where you wouldn't be here anymore.

You knew. And somehow, that makes the missing you a little easier to hold.

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Just one small heart in an empty room, and somehow that's the whole picture — how much space missing someone can take up without needing anything else around it.

I speak your name with pride, not sadness, even on the days sadness is what I actually feel. Life kept going. It just never went back to matching the shape it was before you left it.

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Some goodbyes change everything. But the love behind them can stay with us in the smallest ways.

What’s one thing about them you’ll always carry with you? 🤍

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You always said goodbye like it was nothing — see you soon, and out the door you'd go.

This time there was no warning, no chance to hold on a second longer.
So now I look for you in small red wings and quiet moments, and I swear you find your way to me.
You may have left the room, but you never really left my side.

What's the one thing you'd say if you could say it now?

Tag someone who needs to feel a little less alone.

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I miss you more than words can say,
and think of you every single day.

It sits with its back to the frame,
small against one enormous gold-leafed tree,
facing out toward a field
that keeps its distance in soft amber light.

I used to think missing someone
would eventually need fewer words to explain.

It doesn't.
It just gets harder to say out loud,
even as the reason for saying it
stays exactly as present as it was on day one.

The leaves don't fall while it's sitting there.
The light doesn't dim to end the scene.

It just stays under the tree a while longer,
facing the same field,
thinking the same thought
it thinks every single day, without needing new words for it.

— Angels Are Near

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If you’ve ever been there, leave a message for them, or for anyone reading this who needs a little kindness today.

❤️ Sometimes strangers understand in ways no one else can.

Active link to the blog is here https://www.forevermissed.com/blog/?utm_source=facebook&utm_medium=post

😔💜

The dandelion lets its seeds
drift off to answer distant needs,
each piece of white a part of me
that left when you stopped breathing free.
I am not who I used to be,
some part of me went off with thee,
scattered now upon the wind,
a version of myself, thinned.
The field stands quiet in the haze,
the sun sets soft on empty days,
and I stand rooted, torn in half,
missing pieces, missing laugh.
They say that grief will make you new,
reshape you into something true,
but first it has to take its share,
first it has to leave you bare.
I watch the seeds float far and wide,
like all the parts of me that died
the day you left this world behind —
a different self I've come to find.
So I am changed, and that's the truth,
I lost a piece of who I was youth,
but what remains still loves you still,
and always, always, always will.
— Angels Are Near