When we dig through what's left of love, we find that even in endings, someone thought to leave flowers.

We live through small funerals every day-the last day, the last hope, the last warm touch.

If we are lucky, we pause long enough to notice: there it is, and there it goes.

Bless you who carry a heart made heavy by loving what cannot stay, still bending toward the earth in search of flowers.

~The gorgeous-souled Kate Bowler