There was a time when every vision of the future had your face in it.
Every plan I made carried your name. I couldn’t imagine a tomorrow that didn’t begin and end with us. And when it all shattered, the future felt like a void — dark, empty, endless.

But life does not stop, even when love does.
Days turn into weeks, weeks into months, and slowly, the blank pages of tomorrow begin to ask for ink again.

I started small.
A promise to myself to wake up with purpose.
A dream I had buried long ago, dusted off and given air.
A vision of who I could become — not as part of us, but as me.

Building a tomorrow without you has not been easy.
There are still days when the weight of what we were pulls me back. Still moments when the past whispers louder than the future. But I keep going, brick by brick, hope by fragile hope.

Because tomorrow deserves to exist, even without you in it.
Because my story is not finished just because ours ended.

And maybe the greatest act of love I can give myself is this:
to believe in a future where joy is possible, where laughter feels whole, where love — in some form, someday — can live again.

So I build.
Not to erase you, but to honor what we had by choosing to live fully, even after.
And every time I place a new brick of tomorrow, I remind myself:
This is not the end.
This is the beginning of everything still waiting for me.

Always and Forever

💬 Have you started building your own tomorrow after loss? Share in the comments — your story may be the hope someone else needs to begin.