dear finn, three years without you

a letter about lost love and faith found as time goes by

beloved finn,

today marks three years since you took your last breath.
three years since my world split open.
three years of learning how love can stretch across worlds.

as i sit in the evening light,
under the tree that has become yours,
leaning into its rough bark,
feeling the solidness along my spine,
i hear our children playing nearby,
and i feel your breath in the breeze,
rising with the sap that runs through its veins.

earlier we gathered at your grave with your family.
we placed roses,
tears fell,
and children tumbled in the grass.
we shared our favorite memories of you,
moments from the life you lived among us,
and glimpses of the ways you come to us still,
from beyond the veil.

in the beginning there was only raw grief.
and at first, it was shock, more than anything.
shock and desperation,
like being inside a washing machine
filled with rocks and dirt and muddy water.
it felt like a giant flood had crashed through our home.

year two, it was as if i had washed up on the muddy banks,
crawling through sludge,
reaching for the sky
but always being pulled back down.
i could see the light,
i could taste it,
but i was stuck in the heaviness,
always sinking back in with an aching no words can name.

and now, year three.
something has shifted.
i have stopped fighting the loss so much.
i have stopped fighting our connection like before.

i have stopped wrestling with the pain of you pulling away in illness,
the pain of realizing that my soulmate
was no longer here in the flesh.
for so long it was like gasping for air,
surfacing for a breath,
then plunging back into the dark waters.

but now i feel like the lotus rising from the mud.
i am flowering.
and i can feel you here.

they always say the departed are felt in the sunsets,
in the breezes,
in the songs that arrive on shuffle.
i used to think that was just pretty language.
but now i know.
it is real.
and it is a felt sense.
you are still here, it’s just different now.
i know it in my bones.

i never stopped seeking you.
even when i was broken in two.
even when my heartsickness threatened to drown me.
even when i did not want to be here anymore.
i stayed for our children,
and i searched for you in every breath.

yet now a soft light of hope fills me.
like a glass of sparkling water poured in sunlight,
rainbows glimmering at the rim.
like a flower unfurling.

it has been faith that carried me through.
faith in our love,
faith in the willingness
to face every frozen, wounded part of me.
i have gone back to the little girl who was hurt,
who was unprotected,
and i have been with her.

i picked her up and stroked her silken hair.

for a long time my soul was like a house
with no windows or doors,
wind screaming through the empty frame.
but now there are curtains,
sunlight spilling warm across the floor.
children run in and out,
and life feels livable again.

i feel i can breathe once more.
because I know you are still with me.
and because I no longer fight our divine union.
instead i know you are my co-pilot
and my co-parent still.

forever and always…

your beloved,

~ venus

thank you for being here, it truly means the world. i love hearing your thoughts, if you feel called to comment.

i am a writer, speaker, and musician devoted to healing and embodiment. i share essays, poetry, and original music through venus consciousness. i’d love to walk this path with you. 💞