November 1, 2025
Thought of the Day: “Perhaps they are not stars, but openings in heaven where the love of our lost ones pours through.” — Eskimo Proverb
There’s something beautifully haunting about that image, stars not as distant suns, but as tiny cracks in the ceiling of heaven where love sneaks through. It’s both comforting and heartbreaking. Comforting because it gives grief a shape we can hold onto; heartbreaking because it reminds us that love sometimes lives where we can’t reach it.
I’ve always thought grief was less like an ending and more like a long-distance relationship we never signed up for. The person is gone, but the connection isn’t. It lingers, reshapes, flickers, like starlight, visible long after its source has faded from view.
When someone you love dies, you start to notice things differently. The world becomes full of secret messages, songs that shuffle at the perfect time, cardinals that perch too close, coincidences that are a little too coincidental. Maybe it’s superstition. Maybe it’s wishful thinking. Or maybe, it’s the universe returning a favor: love given, love reflected.
For me, it’s stars.
When my grandfather passed away, I’d step outside on cold nights and look for the brightest one. I’d tell myself, “That’s him.” Not because I believed the star was him, but because I needed a place to put the feeling. Some nights it still works.
Over time, I’ve realized that belief doesn’t need to be provable to be powerful. We all make meaning out of what hurts. We all try to translate love into a language we can still understand. For some, it’s prayer. For others, it’s poetry. For me, it’s light.
The older I get, the more I think grief is love that has nowhere to go. The light we send out, through stories, laughter, and quiet remembrance, has to travel somewhere. Maybe it goes up. Maybe it comes back down as a twinkle that finds us when we need it most.
What matters isn’t where it goes, but that it goes.
So tonight, when you see the stars, let yourself believe they’re openings in heaven, or at least, openings in your own heart that let love through.
Because maybe that’s all heaven is: the place where love keeps finding a way to reach us.
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