Pinned halfway down the dishwasher—at her eye level—was a handwritten note from her Aunt Ondrea with the words Everyone Loves You, Luna.
Luna trotted by these words every day—and they were true. Anyone who didn’t love her didn’t know her well enough yet.
All people were her people, and all her days were made of the things love does:
Love smells the air, and runs wild in the grass
Love leaps into hearts and onto beds
Love plays, tastes, rests, and rests again
Love takes full sighing breaths under warm blankets
Love is a witness
Love gathers and protects
Love is loyal, honest, fierce, and free
Love holds on tight, and
Love lets go
Luna let go on the new moon, crossing into tomorrow from the comfort of her bed and surrounded by her Mamas.
She didn’t want to walk, wag, or eat that day. She wanted rest, breath, and quiet.
She wanted us all to know how much we are loved.
I know you’ve had deep loss too, in different forms, and now is a particularly heightened time of sitting closer to those losses.
You are not alone, not for a moment.
If you feel called to express sympathy, thank you. But please also take Luna’s love and recycle it back to yourself.
Consider writing the words “Everyone Loves You” and putting them on your fridge, bulletin board, or mirror, or anywhere you’ll see them often (please tag me on media). Let Luna’s note remind you of what love does.
If you’re thinking “ but some people don’t love me,” remember—they just don’t know you well enough yet.
What’s not to love?