The Little Things That Grief Never Takes Away

A letter from my heart to yours

The day after Kingsley’s three-year remembrance, I sat quietly.

I wasn’t editing videos.

I wasn’t replying to emails.

I wasn’t thinking about work.

I was simply reading your comments.

Thousands of them.

Your prayers.

Your words of encouragement.

Your love for me, for my children and for KC.

And then… I cried.

Not because of your comments.

But because they reminded me of his.

Every time I posted something, he always had something to say.

“HR, spend your money!” 😂

“Dee of life and destiny.”

“Mother of all mothers.”

“Wife of life and destiny.”

“My blonde Baldie.” (This was after I shaved my hair and dyed it blonde!)

If he had been away from social media for a few days, the very first thing he’d do when he came back online was visit my page.

“Let me see what my wife has been posting.”

He’d read every caption because he knew me.

He understood how my mind worked.

He knew there was always a story behind every photo.

Sometimes he’d tease me about how long my captions were.

Other times he’d hype me up like I was the only woman on the internet.

And do you know what I miss the most?

Not the grand gestures.

Not the expensive gifts.

Not even the holidays.

I miss the ordinary.

The little comments.

The little jokes.

The little encouragements.

The little things.

Because grief has taught me something.

It isn’t always the birthdays or anniversaries that bring the tears.

Sometimes it’s opening Instagram and realising the one person who never missed a post… isn’t there to leave a comment anymore.

People often ask me,

“Do you still miss him?”

Or…

“Have you moved on?”

I always smile.

How do you stop missing someone who loved you so intentionally?

How do you “get over” someone whose love still lives in the smallest details of your everyday life?

The truth is…

I don’t think love ends.

I think it changes shape.

It becomes memories that appear without warning.

A phrase.

A song.

A smell.

A joke only the two of you understood.

A caption you know they would’ve laughed at.

And somehow, those little things keep them close.

If you’re reading this and you’ve lost someone you love, don’t ever feel guilty for remembering them.

Don’t apologise because a memory made you smile.

Don’t feel embarrassed because a comment, a photograph or an ordinary Tuesday brought tears to your eyes.

Those memories aren’t a sign that you’re stuck.

They’re evidence that you were deeply loved.

And what a privilege that is.

Looking back now, I realise that God gave me something many people spend a lifetime searching for.

A husband who loved intentionally.

Who celebrated me loudly.

Who made ordinary days feel special.

Who noticed the little things.

Our time together was far too short.

But what a beautiful gift it was.

Today, when I read your comments, I still miss his.

But instead of dwelling only on what’s missing, I’ve chosen to be grateful for what was.

Because not everyone gets to experience that kind of love.

I did.

And for that…

I will thank God for the rest of my life.

Thank you for every message.

Every prayer.

Every comment.

Every word of encouragement.

You may never fully know what your kindness has meant to me and my children.

I see it all.

I feel it all.

And I pray that the same comfort you’ve extended to my family finds its way back to yours whenever you need it most.

With love,

Doris King❤️

You don’t have to walk alone

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