🌻 The Warmth They Leave Behind

Simply Flava | Reflections on Healing & Remembrance

Sometimes love doesn’t disappear; it just changes shape.

It becomes a blanket folded in a drawer, a photo glowing beneath a lamp, a tumbler on a shelf that still feels like a friend’s steady hand.

When I pulled out Sheryl’s Seahawks blanket to drape over my lamp, I felt more than warmth — I felt her. That quiet kind of comfort that says, “You’re cared for, even now.” I know that if winter is hard on my hips, her electric blanket waits nearby, a reminder that someone once saw my pain and made sure I’d have relief.

Her photo rests in my room where I can see it each day. It makes me smile, but it also reminds me to be mindful of my own health — to listen to my body, to rest when I need to, and to treat myself with the same care she showed everyone else.

I still wonder sometimes whether she knew something was wrong, or if it came suddenly. I may never know. But maybe that’s not the point. Maybe what matters most is that her life continues to whisper small lessons through the things she left behind — lessons about showing up, giving freely, and leaving warmth in places that might grow cold without you.

So when I see that blanket glow in the light, I breathe, smile, and say thank you.

Her kindness still covers me.

💛

“She left warmth for your body and wisdom for your soul — use both.”

— Bean the Cat ☕🌻

Some love never fades — it simply changes form.

A blanket. A photo. A quiet reminder to slow down, breathe, and care for yourself the way they once cared for you.

Sheryl’s warmth still fills my space — and my spirit.

Every soft light, every gentle moment reminds me that she left me more than memories… she left me mindfulness.

💛 “She left warmth for your body and wisdom for your soul — use both.”

☕🌻 — Bean the Cat