Seven Years, Seven Days, and a Heart Still Learning to Carry Grief

 I am losing track of days. Weeks too.

I believe I did not post last week, or perhaps it has been two weeks since I last posted. Honestly, I cannot even remember, and I have been far too tired to go back and check. So, for those who may have wondered where I disappeared to, or for those who missed my posts over the last week or two, I truly apologize. I believe I have a very good reason, though, and I hope you will understand.

August has always been a difficult month for me, and I believe it always will be. Within just a few days, between the 20th and 27th of August, I have carried two completely different emotions in my heart for years. Since I was a teenager, I celebrated the birth of my soul mate, Matthew Moore, on the 27th of August. For the last seven years, however, I have also mourned his sudden death on the 21st of August.

Seven years. It sounds like such a long time when you say it out loud. To some people, perhaps it sounds long enough to expect someone to be “over it”. I know there are probably people who quietly think, “Get over it already. It has been seven years.”

All I can say is that I wish I could. But at the same time, I am afraid.

I am afraid that one day I will completely get over it and somehow lose all the memories I had of Matt. Because what does “getting over someone” even mean when they were such an important part of who you became? How do you simply move on from someone whose presence helped shape your life, whose love and care became part of the person you are today?

What people do not realize is the bond I shared with him. What they do not realize is that Matt and his dad were my earth angels. They came into my life at a time when I genuinely felt like my world was falling apart. They cared for me, groomed me, loved me and looked after me. They became my chosen family, and I placed my complete trust in them.

I knew they would never intentionally hurt me. In fact, they were always so careful with my heart that even the thought of them hurting me unintentionally seems impossible. They were people who made me feel safe in a world where I often did not. That kind of love is difficult to explain to people who never witnessed it or experienced the bond we shared.

Some relationships cannot be measured by blood. Some people enter your life and become family simply because your soul recognizes them as home. Matt was one of those people.

Any guy can love a thousand girls, but only a rare guy can love one girl in a thousand different ways. That was Matt.

And perhaps that is why losing him changed me in ways I still struggle to explain.

There was no goodbye. There was no final conversation and no chance to prepare my heart for losing him. One moment he was here, and the next, he was gone, leaving behind a silence I still do not know how to fill.

The worst day of my life was the last day of his.

Since then, I have been trying to learn how to live in a world that no longer has him in it. But the truth is that even seven years later, I am still struggling. I am still carrying the weight of his absence. And no, I am not okay.

Grief is a strange thing because it does not always announce itself loudly. Sometimes it arrives in tears. Sometimes it arrives in exhaustion. Sometimes it makes you forget what day it is or whether something happened last week or two weeks ago because your mind is simply tired from carrying too much.

Sometimes grief makes you withdraw from the things you usually love. Sometimes you do not answer messages. Sometimes you do not post. Sometimes even the smallest task feels like climbing a mountain. And sometimes you can be perfectly fine one moment, only for a memory to suddenly sneak up behind you and knock the breath out of your body.

Sometimes memories sneak out of my eyes and roll down my cheeks.

That, to me, is grief. It is love with nowhere physical to go.

The pain can be unspeakable. At times, I literally feel as though my heart has been torn out of my chest. But strangely, I also believe that sadness, pain and tears are gifts from God. They allow us to express the depths of who we are and what we feel. If we never cried, would people truly understand how deeply we loved? If our hearts never hurt, would we understand the significance of the people we were blessed to have in our lives?

I do not believe grief is a weakness. I believe grief is proof that love was real.

And if Matt was truly as perfect as I sometimes believe he was, then perhaps I am beginning to understand why Heaven called him home. Maybe he really was too perfect for this horrible world.

This post is dedicated to the man who kept his word, the man who cared for my heart so carefully, the man who loved me in ways that few people ever will and the man who became my chosen family.

The man who was too good for this world.

My Matt.

But as if August was not already difficult enough, last year brought another loss into my life. My feathered baby, Quando, died after seven years of being with our family. Oddly enough, it only recently hit me that I had been mourning Matt for seven years when my feathered baby passed away after being with us for seven years too.

Seven years.

Coincidence? Maybe.

But grief has a strange way of making you notice numbers, dates and connections that you might otherwise overlook.

The last two weeks have therefore been rough on me emotionally. To make matters worse, I have also been fighting a very aggressive flu bug. My body is tired, my mind is tired and, honestly, my heart is tired too.

A year ago, on Tuesday, 19 August, the day began as usual. I had breakfast with Mum and then settled into work. But as the morning went on, something about Quando caught my attention. He was sitting at the bottom of his cage.

Normally, that would not necessarily have worried me. Quando could be playful and mischievous, and sometimes he would sit at the bottom of his cage playing with a paper towel. But this was different. He was still and quiet. Something immediately made my heart sink.

It reminded me so much of when Sunny had been unwell, and deep down, I knew something was wrong.

I called the vet and managed to get an appointment. In the meantime, I washed out his cage because it was the only carrier we could use to bring him along. I held him close and gave him extra love. He was pooping far more than usual, and the colour and smell were not right. All he wanted to do was sleep on my shoulder, which was something he always loved to do.

Every now and then, he would perk up and have a little burst of activity, and those moments gave me hope. At times, I considered cancelling the appointment, convincing myself that perhaps it was just a small bug and that he would get over it.

And yes, I thought about the cost. Veterinary care is expensive, and I knew it could easily cost a few hundred dollars. But my conscience would not allow me to take that risk with him. He was my baby. As the afternoon went on and he showed no real signs of improvement, I knew we had to go.

At the veterinary clinic, there were registrations, questions and examinations. An X-ray was done to check for metal, and thankfully, it came back clear. But Quando had severe diarrhea. The vet cleaned him up and examined a stool sample.

Then came the news that broke my heart.

His belly was full of worm eggs.

The vet asked whether he had been around other birds or wild animals. He had not. That puzzled them. The only explanation I could think of was that perhaps it had come from the breeder, and the vet even suggested that it could have been something present since he was a baby.

Quando was given an injection, and we went home with antibiotics, vitamins and a long list of medications. Then there was something I had not expected to have to do again. I had to hand-feed him formula, just like when we first brought him home, to make sure he stayed hydrated.

I went home feeling heavy-hearted but determined. The vet warned me to prepare for the worst and gave him only a fifty-fifty chance of survival. But I refused to give up hope.

The first formula feed and his medications went better than I could have hoped. Quando ate everything. For a moment, I allowed myself to believe that maybe he would pull through. Maybe tomorrow would bring improvement.

That night, I covered his cage and whispered goodnight to my baby. I prayed that he would make it through the night. If he did, tomorrow would be a long day of scheduled feeds, cleaning and medications, but it would also mean another chance at recovery. At that moment, another chance was all I wanted.

The next day, Wednesday, 20 August, was stressful from beginning to end. I fed Quando and gave him his medications exactly as the vet had advised. For most of the day, things seemed to be going reasonably well.

He was weak, but he still sat on my shoulder as he always did. He was less playful than usual, but he snuggled against my neck and nestled between my hair, just as he had done so many times before. Those little familiar moments gave me hope. He was taking his feeds and medication quite well.

Until the evening.

Then he started slowing down.

It became dark, and I remember telling myself that the moment morning came, I was going to take Quando straight back to the vet. Sadly, I never got the chance.

Quando was sleeping in his cage in the living room while I worked on my computer in the bedroom. I kept checking on him every few minutes. Then, at about 9pm, I heard a loud, shrill screech.

I swear I have never moved as quickly in my life.

I jumped across the bed and rushed to Quando.

He was lying weakly in his tent.

In seven years, I had never seen him sleep like that. Normally, he would lean against it and sleep, something I always found amusing. But this was different.

Quando saw me at the cage. He tried to come to me, but he was too weak to move.

By then, the rest of my family had heard the screech and gathered around the cage. I slowly picked my baby up and stroked his little feathered head.

And then he passed away.

I cried as if a human being had died. Yes, he was my pet, and yes, he was “just a bird” to some people. But he was my feathered baby. He had been part of my life for seven years.

Honestly, I never knew losing a pet could hurt this much.

Growing up, I had never had a pet for long enough to become deeply attached or to experience watching one grow old and die. Quando was different. He was the best pet I could ever have asked for. He was definitely a one-owner bird and was fiercely protective of me. He loved me, knew me and trusted me.

And I miss him.

A year has passed, and I am still not ready for another pet. Perhaps I never will be. Quando was special, and I do not think another pet could ever replace what he was to me. Nor should they have to. He was his own little personality, his own little soul and his own irreplaceable part of our family.

When he passed away, I wanted to give him a goodbye that felt as gentle and beautiful as the little life he had given us. I wrapped a box with white silk and filled it with flowers. I laid Quando to rest there while we waited for the animal cremation company to come and pick him up.

They were incredibly professional and compassionate, and despite the heartbreak of the moment, the whole process was comforting.

And now Quando is forever with us in our hearts.

His ashes sit in our living room, in the very place where his cage once stood.

Sometimes I look at that space and remember the sounds he used to make, the little movements, the routines and the way he would sit on my shoulder. I remember the way he would snuggle against me, and once again, grief reminds me that love changes form, but it does not simply disappear.

That is perhaps what I am still trying to learn.

Healing after loss does not mean forgetting. It does not mean loving someone less, and it certainly does not mean waking up one morning and suddenly being completely unaffected by their absence.

Healing means slowly learning to carry them differently. You carry them in your memories, in your choices, in your quiet moments, in the stories you tell and in all the love they left behind.

I do not know if grief ever completely goes away. Perhaps it is not supposed to. Perhaps we simply become better at carrying it.

Some days, we carry it gently. Other days, it feels unbearably heavy. Some days, we laugh and remember with gratitude. Other days, a date on the calendar can bring us to our knees.

And both are okay.

To anyone who is grieving the death of someone they love, please know this: you do not have to heal according to anyone else's timeline. There is no deadline for missing someone. There is no correct number of years after which your heart is expected to stop hurting.

Let yourself feel. Let yourself cry. Let yourself rest. Take life one day at a time.

And if all you can manage today is simply getting through today, then that is enough.

Your grief is not a weakness.

It is proof that your love was real.

So, if you have wondered where I have been for the last week, or perhaps the last two weeks, this is my answer. I honestly do not know where the days have gone. August has taken its emotional toll on me again.

I have been grieving. I have been remembering. I have been missing. I have been sick.

And I have been tired.

Very tired.

But I am still here.

I am still taking one day at a time. I am still learning how to live with the people and the little feathered soul I have loved and lost.

And perhaps that is what coping with grief really is.

It is not getting over it. It is not forgetting. It is not pretending that it no longer hurts.

It is learning how to continue living while carrying love and loss together in the same heart.

Matt, I still miss you.

Quando, I still miss you too.

And perhaps some memories will always find their way out of my eyes and roll gently down my cheeks.

Maybe that is okay.

Maybe that is simply love reminding us that even though someone is no longer physically beside us, they were once here. They mattered. They were loved.

And they will never truly be forgotten.

Movie Recommendation: My Stepfather’s Secret (2019)

 

Every now and then, I come across a movie that may not necessarily have the biggest budget, the most famous cast, or the kind of publicity that dominates cinemas, but somehow manages to pull me in and keep me watching until the very end. My Stepfather’s Secret (2019) was one of those movies for me. From the moment the story began, I found myself drawn into the tension, the family dynamics, and that uncomfortable feeling of knowing that something is not quite right.

At its heart, My Stepfather’s Secret is a suspense thriller about trust, family, intuition, and the danger of ignoring the warning signs that are sometimes right in front of us. The story follows Bailey, a young woman who returns home only to discover that her mother has suddenly become engaged to a man Bailey barely knows. What should perhaps be a happy moment for the family quickly becomes something much more unsettling when Bailey begins to question whether this new man in her mother’s life is really who he claims to be.

What immediately interested me about the movie was how relatable the basic situation is. We have all, at some point in our lives, met someone and formed an opinion about them that others did not necessarily share. Sometimes it is just a personality clash. Sometimes it is jealousy or misunderstanding. But sometimes, there is that small voice inside you telling you that something is wrong.

That is what I found most interesting about Bailey's character. She has this gut instinct that refuses to go away. The more she observes her mother’s new fiancé, the more uncomfortable she becomes. The problem is that when you are the only person who sees the warning signs, convincing everyone else can be incredibly difficult.

I think that is something many people can relate to. It is frustrating when you care about someone and feel that they are making a mistake, especially when they are emotionally invested and do not want to hear anything negative. Love can make people see what they want to see. When someone is lonely, vulnerable, or simply desperate to believe that they have finally found happiness, it can become even harder for them to recognize the danger standing right in front of them.

Paris Smith, who plays Bailey, does a good job portraying that emotional struggle. Bailey is not simply suspicious for the sake of creating drama. Her concern comes from a place of love and protectiveness. At the same time, she has to deal with the difficult reality that her mother is an adult who has the right to make her own choices.

That creates an interesting emotional conflict throughout the movie. How far do you go when trying to protect someone you love? When does concern become interference? And what do you do when the person you are trying to protect refuses to believe you?

For me, those questions gave the movie more emotional depth than a typical suspense thriller. Yes, there are secrets to uncover and moments designed to make you suspicious of what might happen next, but underneath all of that is a story about family relationships. Bailey is not investigating a stranger simply because she enjoys playing detective. She is terrified that someone she loves could be making a terrible mistake.

The suspense in My Stepfather’s Secret also develops gradually. It is not one of those films that immediately throws everything at you in the first ten minutes. Instead, there is a slow build of uncertainty. Little things begin to feel strange. Questions arise. Doubts grow. You start wondering whether Bailey is right to be suspicious or whether her feelings are being influenced by the sudden changes happening within her family.

I personally enjoy this kind of storytelling because it keeps you engaged. You begin watching the characters closely and questioning their motives. You look for clues and try to work out who is telling the truth. That slow, creeping feeling of doubt is often more effective than constant action because it makes the suspense feel personal.

Of course, the movie does follow some familiar Lifetime thriller formulas. If you have watched enough television thrillers, you may recognize certain themes and storytelling patterns. There is the seemingly charming newcomer, the concerned family member who is not believed, the hidden secrets, and the growing danger as the truth begins to emerge.

But honestly, that is part of the charm.

My Stepfather’s Secret does not pretend to be a huge Hollywood blockbuster. It knows exactly what kind of movie it is and delivers the kind of suspense and drama that fans of Lifetime style thrillers enjoy. Sometimes you do not need complicated plots filled with endless twists. Sometimes a straightforward story, interesting characters, and a growing sense of danger are enough to keep you entertained.

What stayed with me most after watching the film was the message about trusting your instincts. Of course, intuition is not always right, and we should never judge people unfairly based only on a first impression. But I do believe that when something repeatedly feels wrong, it is worth paying attention. Sometimes our instincts notice things before we are consciously able to explain why.

The movie also explores how easily relationships can change the balance within a family. When someone new enters the picture, especially in a serious relationship, everyone is affected. There can be excitement, uncertainty, jealousy, fear, and sometimes resistance to change. In Bailey’s situation, those emotions are made even more intense because she believes the man her mother has chosen may be hiding something dangerous.

That combination of family drama and suspense is what made the movie work for me. It is not just about discovering a secret. It is about the emotional consequences of not being believed when you are trying to warn someone you love.

Overall, My Stepfather’s Secret is a solid and entertaining suspense thriller that kept me interested from beginning to end. It has enough mystery to keep you guessing, but it also has an emotional core that makes you care about what happens to the characters. Bailey’s determination to protect her mother, even when it puts her own relationships and safety at risk, gives the story its heart.

If you enjoy movies about hidden secrets, family drama, suspicious strangers, and the terrifying possibility that the person who appears charming and trustworthy may be hiding something much darker, then I would definitely recommend giving My Stepfather’s Secret a watch.

It may follow a familiar formula, but sometimes familiar stories can still be enjoyable when they are told with enough tension and heart. For me, this was one of those movies that reminded me why I enjoy a good psychological thriller. It makes you question people, trust your instincts, and wonder how well we can ever truly know someone.

And sometimes, the scariest secrets are the ones hiding closest to home.

21st Sunday in Ordinary Time: Who Do You Say I Am?

 Today’s readings really made me stop and think about what my relationship with Jesus actually means to me. The question in the Gospel is so simple, yet so personal: “Who do you say that I am?” Jesus was not asking His disciples what everyone else thought about Him. He wanted to know what they themselves believed. That same question is being asked of me today.

The first reading from Isaiah speaks about God placing His servant Eliakim in a position of responsibility and giving him the key to the House of David. To me, this is a reminder that God gives people responsibility for a reason. Leadership is not simply about having authority or being given a title. It is about being someone others can depend on. Eliakim was called to be a father to the people, which makes me think about the kind of person God is calling me to be in the lives of those around me.

What also stands out to me is that the authority ultimately comes from God. Sometimes we can become too focused on what we can achieve ourselves, but this reading reminds me that whatever position, opportunity or responsibility I have is something I should use with humility and for the good of others.

The Responsorial Psalm continues this beautiful theme with the words, “Lord, your love is eternal; do not forsake the work of your hands.” That line speaks to me personally because there have been times in my life when I have wondered where God was, especially during difficult periods. There were moments when I became angry, questioned Him and eventually walked away from my faith. Yet looking back now, I can see that God did not abandon me. His love remained, even when I could not recognize it. The Psalm reminds me that God hears us when we call and that His kindness does not disappear simply because we are struggling.

Then we come to St Paul’s words in Romans, where he reflects on the incredible depth of God’s wisdom and how impossible it is for us to fully understand His ways. This part really resonates with me because I have always wanted answers. When something painful happens, my natural reaction is to ask why. Why did this happen? Why did God allow it? Why did things not turn out differently?

But perhaps faith means accepting that I will not always have those answers. God sees the bigger picture when I can only see one small piece of it. I do not need to understand everything before I trust Him. Sometimes I simply have to surrender the questions and believe that His wisdom is greater than mine.

And then we arrive at the Gospel, which for me is the heart of today’s Mass. Jesus asks, “Who do you say that I am?” Peter answers, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.”

I find this question particularly meaningful because it is not asking me what I learned about Jesus as a child or what the Church teaches about Him. It is asking me who I believe He is.

When I was younger, my image of Jesus was very positive. I saw Him as loving, kind, protective and someone I could trust. As I grew older and experienced more difficult things, my image changed. I became angry with God, questioned why He allowed certain things to happen and eventually turned away from Jesus and the Church for a period of my life.

But coming back to my faith has changed my understanding of Jesus completely. I now realize that Jesus was never the one who changed. I was. My pain changed how I saw Him. My struggles affected my ability to trust Him. Yet even when I walked away, He never walked away from me.

That is why the question “Who do you say I am?” feels very different to me today. I would answer Jesus by saying, You are my Lord, my guide, my strength and the One who never gave up on me. You are the One I can turn to when life is wonderful and when life is incredibly difficult. You are the One who continues to call me back, even when I lose my way.

I also love that Jesus gives Peter the keys and tells him that upon this rock He will build His Church. It reminds me that our faith is not meant to be something we keep completely to ourselves. We belong to a community. We are part of something bigger than our individual journeys.

That feels especially meaningful to me at this point in my own journey. Through Landings, I am discovering again that faith is not just about attending Mass or knowing Scripture. It is about relationships, belonging, honesty and allowing ourselves to be vulnerable enough to grow. It is about recognizing that every person sitting beside us has their own story, their own struggles and their own relationship with God.

Ultimately, today’s readings remind me that I do not need to have everything figured out. I do not need a perfect faith or a perfect story. I simply need to keep saying yes to Jesus and keep walking with Him.

So if Jesus asked me today, “Who do you say that I am?”, my answer would be simple.

You are the One I came back to. You are the One who never stopped waiting for me. And you are the One I want to keep walking with, one day at a time.

---

Reflective question: What step will I take today to know and love Jesus a little more?

Today, I want to take a simple but meaningful step by spending a little quiet time with Jesus in prayer, rather than always rushing through my day. I want to speak to Him honestly, thank Him for bringing me back, and listen instead of always looking for answers. Jesus asks me who I believe He is, and I think the best way to know Him more is to actually spend time with Him.

For me, loving Jesus a little more today means trusting Him a little more, surrendering what I cannot control, and remembering that He has never stopped walking beside me.

Movie Recommendation: Fatal Instinct (2014)

 

There are some movies that you watch because they have a huge budget, famous actors, spectacular locations and all the ingredients of a Hollywood blockbuster. Then there are movies that draw you in for a completely different reason. They may not be perfect, they may not have the biggest production value, but somewhere beneath the surface is a story that sticks. Fatal Instinct (2014) is one of those movies for me.

Directed by Luciana Faulhaber, also known as Luciana Saber, Fatal Instinct is a crime thriller that caught my attention because it is not simply about solving a crime. At the heart of the story is something much more complicated: loyalty, guilt, friendship, justice and the consequences of choices made in the past. Those are the kinds of themes that make a movie more interesting to me because I have always believed that people are rarely simply good or bad. We all carry our histories, our mistakes and our reasons for doing the things we do.

What immediately drew me into this film was the central character, a detective who finds himself caught between his professional responsibilities and a deeply personal sense of guilt. As he investigates a case, the evidence begins pointing toward his partner's troubled brother, someone he had previously helped put behind bars. Suddenly, what should be a straightforward investigation becomes something far more personal.

That conflict is what makes the movie work for me.

I have always been fascinated by situations where people have to make difficult choices when there is no completely right answer. Sometimes doing what is right can hurt someone we care about. Sometimes loyalty can conflict with truth. Sometimes the past refuses to stay where we left it. Fatal Instinct explores that uncomfortable space between what we should do and what our heart wants us to do.

The film also has a gritty and grounded atmosphere that I found quite appealing. It does not feel overly polished or manufactured, and although there are moments where the low budget becomes noticeable, I actually think that gives the movie some character. There is something raw about it. Instead of feeling like a glossy Hollywood production, it feels more intimate and confined, almost as though the characters themselves are trapped inside the consequences of their decisions.

That sense of confinement adds to the tension.

What I particularly appreciated was that the emotional conflict sometimes felt more important than the actual crime investigation. The mystery is certainly part of the attraction, but for me, the more interesting question was not simply, “Who did it?” It was, “What happens when the truth forces people to confront everything they have tried to leave behind?”

That is a question that can apply far beyond a crime thriller.

Life has a funny way of bringing the past back to us. People we thought we had left behind can reappear. Decisions we thought were finished can suddenly have consequences. And sometimes, circumstances force us to look at old relationships, old mistakes and old wounds with completely different eyes.

That is why I found myself becoming more interested in the characters than in the mechanics of the investigation.

I will admit that the pacing is not perfect. There are moments where the story feels uneven, and the production does not have the polish we might expect from a big studio thriller. If you are looking for spectacular action sequences, enormous twists or a constantly accelerating storyline, this may not be the movie for you.

But I do not think every movie needs to be judged by how expensive it looks.

Sometimes authenticity is more important than perfection.

There is something rather admirable about a film that tells its story without relying entirely on spectacle. Fatal Instinct has a certain scrappy quality that made me curious enough to keep watching because I wanted to see where everything would eventually lead. It reminded me that a compelling story can sometimes come from very simple ingredients: complicated people, difficult choices, buried secrets and consequences that refuse to disappear.

And perhaps that is the biggest reason I would recommend this movie.

It is not necessarily a film that will leave you stunned by one enormous plot twist. Instead, it is a film that gradually makes you think about the emotional cost of truth. It asks what happens when duty clashes with loyalty, when guilt follows us into the present and when the people connected to our past become part of our present again.

For me, those are the stories worth watching.

I enjoy movies that give me something to think about after the credits roll. Fatal Instinct did that in its own imperfect way. It reminded me that life is rarely as straightforward as we would like it to be. People make mistakes. People carry baggage. People change. And sometimes, the hardest thing we can do is face the truth about ourselves and the people around us.

So, would I recommend Fatal Instinct (2014)?

Yes, particularly if you enjoy character driven crime thrillers with an emotional side. Go into it without expecting a big budget Hollywood production and instead allow yourself to appreciate what it is trying to do. Beneath the rough edges is a story about loyalty, guilt, justice and the inescapable shadow of the past.

And perhaps that is what stayed with me most.

Because no matter how far we think we have moved on, the past has a way of finding us again. Sometimes it comes knocking quietly. Sometimes it arrives like a storm. But eventually, we all have to decide whether we are going to run from it or finally face it.

When God Sends You an Earth Angel

 Sometimes God doesn't remove the difficult chapter. Sometimes He sends someone to help you walk through it.

There are moments in life when something happens and you can't quite explain it. You can call it coincidence. You can call it timing. You can call it fate. Or, if you believe as I do, you can quietly wonder whether perhaps God had a hand in it all along.

On 7 July 2026, I met someone online. One month later, I find myself wondering whether perhaps I didn't simply meet someone online. Perhaps God sent me an earth angel. Someone who appeared in my life at a time when I needed him more than I realized.

August has always been a difficult month for me. There are certain times of the year that carry emotions with them ... memories, absences, things that happened, and people who were once such an enormous part of your life and are no longer here in the same way.

For me, August brings a particular kind of ache. I have spent more than half my life with someone who was my pillar. Someone who knew me, someone who stood beside me through life, and someone whose presence became so deeply woven into my existence that it was difficult to imagine navigating certain chapters without him.

Losing that person changed something inside me. And although life continues, grief doesn't always follow a calendar. Some months simply hurt more than others. August is one of those months.

God knew that.

And perhaps that is why the timing of this someone entering my life feels so extraordinary. Because just as I was approaching another difficult August, another person appeared. Not to replace the person I lost. Nobody could. And not to erase the memories or take away the grief, but simply to stand beside me in a different way.

An unexpected presence. A listening ear. A source of laughter. A person of faith.

An earth angel.

We often imagine angels as something otherworldly, something beautiful and glowing, something obviously sent from heaven. But perhaps earth angels don't arrive that way. Perhaps they look like ordinary people. They have ordinary lives, their own scars, struggles, mistakes and stories.

And perhaps they simply arrive at exactly the right moment.

They say the right thing. They listen when you need someone to listen. They make you laugh when you desperately need a reason to smile. They remind you that you are not alone. And sometimes, they don't even realize the impact they are having.

That is what I think about when I think about him.

He didn't arrive with a grand announcement. There was no sign saying, "Here is the person God has sent you." There was simply a conversation. Then another. And another.

And somewhere between the words, the laughter, the conversations about life and faith, something began to happen.

I began to feel less alone.

The word soulmate can mean so many different things. We often associate it with romantic love, but I have come to believe that soul connections can take many forms.

Sometimes a soulmate is the person who walks beside you for a lifetime. Sometimes it is someone who arrives for a particular season. Sometimes it is someone who touches your soul in a way that changes you forever. And sometimes, perhaps, a soulmate is simply a person whose spirit recognizes something in yours.

That is how I see it.

It feels familiar. It feels strangely comfortable. It feels as though our conversations have travelled much further than the short amount of time we have actually known each other.

We first connected on 7 July. Only one month ago. Yet there are moments when I catch myself thinking, 'How can someone I have known for such a short time feel so familiar?'

Maybe some connections aren't measured in time.

Maybe they are measured in depth.

One of the things that has touched me most about him is the way he listens. I have shared things about my past that aren't easy for me to talk about. Things that still carry emotion, things that have shaped who I am, and things that I have sometimes wished I could simply leave behind.

And he doesn't try to tell me who I should be. He doesn't tell me to forget. He doesn't tell me that I should have moved on by now.

He listens.

He understands.

He reminds me that my scars don't make me weak. Perhaps they are simply evidence that I survived.

There is something incredibly powerful about having someone look beyond the person you present to the world. Most people see the strong version of us. The capable version. The happy version. The version who helps everyone else.

But sometimes an earth angel sees the woman behind all of that.

The woman who gets tired. The woman who gets scared. The woman who has been hurt. The woman who sometimes needs someone else to say, "It's okay. You don't have to have everything figured out."

He has become that to me.

And then faith brings another layer.

He is a Christian, and his faith is an important part of who he is. That has become another beautiful thread connecting us.

We talk about God. We talk about faith. We talk about life. We talk about the things that have happened to us. We talk about whether people enter our lives for a reason.

And sometimes we wonder whether God really does place certain people in our paths exactly when we need them.

I don't pretend to understand God's plans. But I believe in divine timing.

And when I look at the timing of him appearing in my life, especially with August here, I can't help but wonder.

Did God know I was going to need someone?

Did He know that another difficult month was here?

Did He know that I needed someone to remind me that although one chapter of my life had ended, my story was nowhere near finished?

Perhaps He did.

Perhaps God knew before I did.

But he did not come to replace anyone.

This is important.

He isn't a replacement for anyone. He couldn't be. And I wouldn't want him to be.

The person who was my pillar for more than half my life holds a place in my heart that belongs only to him. That love, those memories, that history... none of that disappears simply because someone new walks into your life.

Perhaps this someone's purpose isn't to fill an empty space.

Perhaps his purpose is simply to bring something new into a space that had become very quiet.

Love.

Friendship.

Laughter.

Conversation.

Faith.

Understanding.

Hope.

He doesn't erase the past.

He simply reminds me that there can still be something beautiful in the future.

And perhaps that is what an earth angel does.

They don't change your history.

They help you believe in tomorrow.

Then there are the little things, the things that make me smile.

Like his story about the kisses he used to blow towards the woman he once thought his heart belonged to. Now he says that perhaps all those kisses were meant for me.

And honestly, I love that.

Because sometimes after experiencing difficult things, you need someone who reminds you that life can still be playful. That you can still smile. That you can still be silly. That you can still get excited about a conversation. That you can still look forward to hearing from someone.

Those little moments matter more than we realize.

Sometimes healing doesn't arrive as one enormous revelation. Sometimes it arrives as a smile, a laugh, a message, a conversation that lasts longer than expected, or a person who makes you forget, even briefly, how heavy your heart has been feeling.

I don't know what the future holds. I don't know whether the word soulmate will eventually make sense in the way I feel it today.

And perhaps I don't need to know.

For now, I simply know that he came into my life at a remarkable time. A time when I needed someone, a time when August was here, a time when old grief and memories can become particularly heavy, and a time when I was reminded once again of the absence of the person who had been my pillar for more than half my life.

And then, unexpectedly, God sent me another earth angel.

Not someone to replace the one I lost.

Someone to remind me that I am still here.

That my heart is still capable of connection.

That I can still laugh.

That I can still trust.

That I can still share.

That I can still be vulnerable.

That I can still have beautiful people enter my life.

Maybe we have misunderstood the word soulmate.

Maybe a soulmate isn't always the person who stays forever.

Maybe sometimes a soulmate is the person who arrives when your soul needs something only they can bring.

Maybe they come to teach us. To comfort us. To awaken something in us. To remind us who we are. To help us through a season. To show us that our story isn't finished.

Perhaps some souls cross paths because God knows that each person needs something from the other.

And perhaps sometimes, the most beautiful part is not knowing what happens next.

It is simply being grateful that your paths crossed at all.

It has only been one month since he and I first connected.

One month.

And yet, this has already become meaningful to me in ways I didn't expect.

He makes me laugh. He listens. He understands. He shares my faith. He makes me think. He has allowed me to see parts of his own story while giving me the space to share mine.

And perhaps, above everything else, he has arrived at a time when I needed the reminder that even when life takes someone incredibly important away from us, God can still bring new people into our lives.

Not replacements.

Not substitutes.

New blessings.

New chapters.

New reasons to smile.

Maybe he is an earth angel.

Perhaps I don't need to know it is yet.

I can simply be grateful.

Because I believe God knew.

And perhaps, in His own mysterious way, He whispered, "You don't have to walk through this chapter alone."

And then He sent me my earth angel.

A soul connection I never saw coming.

And perhaps that is the real miracle.

Not that someone came into my life to make everything perfect, but that someone arrived to remind me that even after loss, there can still be connection.

After grief, there can still be laughter.

After heartbreak, there can still be trust.

After darkness, there can still be light.

And sometimes, when you least expect it...

God sends you an earth angel.

20th Sunday in Ordinary Time: To Be a Blessing for Others

 

Today, as we celebrate the Feast of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary, I find myself reflecting on what it really means to give our lives to God and, in doing so, become a blessing to others. The readings today remind me that faith is not simply about believing in God. It is about trusting Him enough to allow Him to work through us.

In the first reading from Revelation, we are given the beautiful image of the woman clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet and a crown of twelve stars. There is a sense of victory and hope in this reading, reminding me that God is ultimately greater than all the struggles and difficulties we face. The second reading from St Paul speaks about Christ's victory over death. Because of Christ, death is not the end. There is hope beyond what we can see and understand.

But it is the Gospel that speaks to me most personally. Mary has just received the incredible news that she will become the mother of Jesus. It would have been completely understandable for her to stay home, overwhelmed by everything that was happening and perhaps wondering what her future would look like. Instead, Mary gets up and goes to Elizabeth. Her "yes" to God immediately becomes a "yes" to serving someone else.

I love that about Mary.

She did not wait until she had everything figured out. She did not wait until she felt completely ready. She simply trusted God and went.

And perhaps that is something I need to remember too.

There have been many times in my life when I have wanted to understand God's plan before taking the next step. I have asked questions, made my own plans and sometimes thought I knew what was best. Looking back, I can see how much easier life becomes when I stop trying to control everything and simply trust God.

My relationship with God has changed greatly over the years. There was a long period when I strayed away from Him, and during that time I questioned why He allowed certain things to happen in my life. But when I eventually returned to church and to my faith, I realized that God had never actually left me. He was there all along.

Today, even when things do not go according to my plans, I find myself responding differently. I have experienced painful moments and difficult situations, including losing someone very dear to me and facing challenges within my family. But I no longer immediately ask, "Why is God doing this to me?" Instead, I try to trust that He sees the bigger picture.

I think that is where Mary becomes such an important example for me.

Mary said yes without knowing exactly where that yes would lead her. She did not have a detailed plan for her life. She simply trusted God. And that trust allowed her to become a blessing to Elizabeth and, ultimately, to the whole world through Jesus.

The Magnificat is also something I find incredibly beautiful. Mary does not make the moment about herself. She does not boast about being chosen. Instead, she says, "My soul magnifies the Lord." Her joy comes from recognizing what God has done.

That makes me think about my own life. I have had many experiences, opportunities and blessings that I could easily take credit for. But when I look back honestly, I can see God's hand in so many things. The people He has placed in my life, the opportunities that have come my way, the moments when I have been guided in unexpected directions and even the difficult experiences that have helped shape me.

Perhaps being a blessing to others does not always mean doing something extraordinary. Sometimes it is simply being there. Listening to someone who needs to talk. Encouraging a friend. Helping a family member. Showing kindness when we could easily walk away. Sharing our time. Offering a prayer. Sometimes, even a simple smile or a few words of encouragement can make a difference in someone's day.

Mary's example reminds me that when we truly give ourselves to God, our focus naturally begins to move beyond ourselves. Our hearts become bigger. We become more aware of the people around us and their needs.

I think that is the challenge for me today. Not simply to say, "Yes, Lord," but to put that yes into action.

I want to be someone who brings a little more light, kindness, encouragement and hope into the lives of the people God places in my path. I do not need to know exactly what He has planned for me. I just need to be willing to say yes and trust Him with the rest.

Perhaps that is what it really means to be a blessing for others. We allow God to use our ordinary lives, our time, our experiences and even our imperfections to bring His love to someone else.

And like Mary, I want my life to magnify not what I have done, but what God has done through me.

Because ultimately, the greatest blessing is not in what we receive from God, but in allowing Him to use us to become a blessing to someone else.

----

Reflective question: What is one concrete way I can be a blessing to those around me, as Mary was?

For me, one concrete way I can be a blessing is simply to be more intentional about being there for the people God has placed in my life. Whether it is spending time with my family, checking in on a friend, encouraging someone who is struggling, or simply listening when someone needs to talk, I want to be someone who brings comfort and positivity.

I think Mary reminds me that I do not have to do something extraordinary to make a difference. Sometimes, just showing up, giving my time and being present can be a blessing. I want to say “yes” to God not just in words, but through the way I love and care for others.

Movie Recommendation: The Idea of You (2024)

 

There are some movies you watch simply because you want to be entertained, and then there are movies that unexpectedly make you feel something. The Idea of You, released in 2024 and starring Anne Hathaway and Nicholas Galitzine, falls somewhere beautifully in between. It is romantic, emotional, funny, glamorous and just a little bit naughty in the way that makes you smile at the screen. For me, it was one of those movies that reminded me that life does not always follow the neat little rules we create for ourselves.

The story follows Solène, played by Anne Hathaway, a divorced mother in her forties who unexpectedly meets Hayes Campbell, a much younger singer from a hugely successful boy band. What begins as a chance encounter develops into a complicated romance that takes them from ordinary moments into the extraordinary world of fame, travel and public attention. Of course, nothing about falling in love with someone famous and considerably younger is going to be simple.

What I particularly enjoyed about this movie is that Solène is not presented as someone who needs rescuing. She is independent, intelligent, experienced and perfectly capable of standing on her own two feet. She has her own life, responsibilities and insecurities. Yet she also has desires, dreams and a heart that is still very much alive. I loved that about her.

There is something incredibly relatable about the idea that we can sometimes convince ourselves that certain chapters of our lives are already closed. We tell ourselves that perhaps romance is for younger people, adventure belongs to another season, or excitement is something we have already experienced. Then life has a funny way of surprising us.

And then there is Nicholas Galitzine.

Honestly, let us just take a moment.

This man is HOT.

There, I said it.

Nicholas Galitzine is absolutely gorgeous in this movie, and he has that rare combination of charm, confidence and sweetness that makes Hayes Campbell incredibly easy to fall for. His smile alone could probably carry several scenes. There is something about the way he plays Hayes that makes the character feel more than just the stereotypical handsome young pop star. He brings warmth and vulnerability to him, which makes the relationship with Solène feel much more believable.

And yes, I absolutely noticed how ridiculously good looking he is. I am watching a romantic movie. I am allowed to appreciate the scenery!

But underneath all the good looks, the movie actually asks some interesting questions. What happens when two people genuinely connect but the world around them refuses to accept their relationship? How much should other people's opinions matter? Can love survive when everyone has something to say about it?

Those questions are what give The Idea of You more substance than I initially expected.

I also appreciated that the movie does not pretend that age differences, family responsibilities or public scrutiny magically disappear because two people fall in love. There are consequences. There are difficult conversations. There are moments where characters have to decide whether what they feel is worth fighting for.

For me, that is where the movie becomes particularly interesting. Love is not always convenient. Sometimes it arrives at the wrong time, through the wrong person, under circumstances you never imagined. Sometimes the biggest obstacle is not whether you love someone, but whether you are brave enough to admit what you want.

Anne Hathaway is wonderful as Solène. She brings a mixture of elegance, humour, vulnerability and strength to the character. She makes Solène feel like a real woman rather than simply a romantic fantasy. I found myself understanding her hesitation while also wanting her to let go and enjoy the experience.

The movie is also visually beautiful. The concerts, hotels, fashion and glamorous settings give it that escapist quality that makes romantic movies so enjoyable. There is something lovely about being able to sit back for a couple of hours and enter a world where unexpected romance can happen.

Would I recommend The Idea of You?

Absolutely.

I would recommend it if you enjoy romantic stories with a little bit of emotional depth. I would recommend it if you like Anne Hathaway. I would recommend it if you enjoy stories about second chances and discovering that life may still have surprises waiting for you. And, quite frankly, I would recommend it if you need an excellent reason to spend a couple of hours looking at Nicholas Galitzine.

But beyond the romance and the eye candy, what stayed with me was the reminder that we should never decide that a particular part of life is over simply because we have reached a certain age or because circumstances have changed.

Sometimes we need to remember that we are still living.

We can still laugh. We can still dream. We can still be surprised. We can still meet someone who makes our hearts beat a little faster.

And sometimes, just sometimes, that someone might look like Nicholas Galitzine.

Now that is what I call a movie recommendation!