Forever Bentley: A Mother's Journey Through Grief

Today was such a beautiful day—the kind of day Bentley and I would have spent outside, soaking up every bit of sunshine. I always tried to take him to the park when the weather was nice. He loved it, and so did I. There was something about the fresh air, the warmth on our skin, and the simple joy of just being together under a wide, open sky. Days like this always made me feel lighter, like the weight of the world wasn’t quite as heavy.

I’ve always craved pretty weather, but now, I need it more than ever. When the sun is shining, when the air is just right, I feel different—calmer, more present. I can feel Bentley in the warmth of the sun, in the gentle breeze that brushes against my skin. It’s like he’s wrapping himself around me, holding me the way I used to hold him. The sunshine feels like his hug, and on days like this, I chase it.

Tonight, I went to watch the sunset with B. I sat there, watching the sky shift into soft shades of orange, pink, and purple—colors that felt like whispers from him, little reminders that he’s still with me. For the first time, I was able to sit on the ground next to him. It’s been so wet since he’s been there, and until now, I haven’t been able to just sit. But tonight, I did. And it was peaceful.

I hate that this is my reality. I hate that this is where I have to go to be “with” him. But at the same time, there was something comforting about just being there, close to him, under a sky that we both loved. For a moment, it felt like the world slowed down, like it was just me, Bentley, and the fading sunlight.

I don’t know if sunsets will ever stop feeling bittersweet. But tonight, for the first time in a long time, I let myself just sit. And even in the sadness, there was a quiet kind of peace.