A Thousand Letters (The Austens #2)

by Staci Hart

You are loved and cared for, with or without me. So please, don't break or bend. Don't crumble and fall. Stand up tall and face the sun and remember me.

"Life is short, so short, so precious, every minute, every day. Don't let the people you love, the people who make you happy, the people who bring you joy — don't let them go. Hang on to them, even when it hurts. When it seems impossible. Hold on to the things that breathe life into you. Listen to your soul and honor what it tells you. Live. Fight for what you love. Because one day, you'll be where I am, and in that moment I want you to look back gladly, with no regrets.

To live Is to feel So you know You are real. -M. White

"For in that sleep of death what dreams may come / When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, / Must give us

Life is a walk, A very long walk That begins with a crawl, A toddle and tumble. But we walk on, Sometimes to trip or fall, Sometimes to run and laugh Throwing our faces up to the sky And our voices to the wind. Friends come and go Through the very long walk, Our paths meeting, Sometimes parting, Sometimes meeting again, Sometimes not. But we weather the days we have Finding comfort and joy In togetherness.

When we meet the one, The one to walk with us, The one to hold our hand, The one whose arms we fill When the nights are cold, The one to comfort When their tears fall, Trail of diamonds On a porcelain cheek. This is when we feel The value of our lives. We walk through the spring, Our eyes on the long blades of grass Reaching for the sun The smell of life and beginnings Filling up our souls; We walk through the summer, Lazy in the heat Warmed by that sun Which coaxed the blossoms from buds Opening their petals to offer themselves Freely, gladly;

We walk through the fall, And the green leaves breathe their last In a riot of color as they languish The tree yawns and stretches bare branches To sleep, just for a while; We walk through the winter, And the cold is bitter The days of spring and life gone The quiet deafening, a fog with no edges But still we hold hands: it vanquishes our fear. And when our walk is done, The miles behind us, A trail of footprints Converging, parting; When we look behind us...