Petra Floral Design

05/14/2025

K

"A year ago this week, my mom died. I lay next to her for a long time, unable to let go. No one prepared me for that instinctual need to stay close — it just happened. Honestly, if hospice hadn’t been so smooth, I would have stayed even longer.

In many cultures, and even in nature, it’s common to remain with the body for a while. Loved ones clean, care for, and say goodbye themselves. In our culture, we often rush it away. Even social animals linger with their dead, sometimes for days. Staying close helps grief find its way through — something we desperately lack.

Yesterday — the last day I would have wanted — we said goodbye to Shadowfax. It wasn’t expected. Earlier in the week, he had been isolating and lying down more. I called the vet, worried. No fever, but heavy breathing. When he stood up, it was clear: his feet hurt terribly. Despite daily meds and every effort, the laminitis and arthritis had worsened.

There it was: the one-year anniversary of my mother’s death, and another decision in front of me. Emotionally, I didn’t want to face it. But Shadowfax didn’t know about anniversaries — he only knew his pain. I pulled myself apart emotionally and rationally, and did what he needed: I let him go.

Afterward, I lay beside him. We’re so quick to remove the body in our culture, but staying makes the loss less sharp. I ran my hands through his soft hair, breathed him in, told him everything I needed to. The time beside him helped slow down the goodbye.

Shadowfax was one of the kindest, most genuine souls I’ve ever met. He was a fairytale horse, beautiful inside and out. I am devastated he’s gone. I knew when he arrived he was hospice — but I had hoped for more time. I’ve learned time isn’t always ours to decide.

The sun shone. The sky was blue. And in my heart, I watched him gallop toward the clouds, my voice in his ear telling him how loved he was.

We can’t avoid death and grief. But we can be brave enough to be present. If that means lying in the driveway with a horse for hours, I’ll do it— and then rise and do it again when another soul needs me.

Run free, Shadowfax. Run like the wind. Tell Mom I love her. I’ll love you forever, king of the horses."

05/10/2025

He Cried on the Bus Every Day—Until She Did What No One Else Would
He didn’t used to be like this.
My little boy used to race to the bus stop—backpack bouncing, shoes untied, waving like the yellow school bus was some kind of rocket ship and he couldn’t wait to blast off.
But something shifted.
He grew quieter. His bright-colored drawings turned into scribbles of gray. And every morning, he clung to me a second longer—like he was bracing himself.
I didn’t know the full story. Not until today.
I stood on the sidewalk, watching him step onto the bus, doing his best to look brave. Avoiding eye contact with the group of kids who’d been whispering for weeks now.
Too small. Too quiet. Too different.
And just as he took his seat, I saw it.
He turned his head toward the window, wiped his eyes quickly, tugged his cap lower, and shrunk into his seat like he wanted to disappear.
Then… the bus didn’t move.
Miss Carmen, the driver—she didn’t honk or shout. She reached her arm back. Gently. Silently.
And held out her hand.
He gripped it like it was the only solid thing in the world.
She stayed like that for a moment. No rush. No pressure. Just her warm hand holding his small one while the engine hummed quietly behind them.
And that might’ve been enough—but it wasn’t the end.
That afternoon, when the bus pulled up for drop-off, she didn’t just let the kids out and drive away.
Miss Carmen parked. Turned off the engine. Got out of her seat.
And walked straight over to the group of waiting parents—including the ones raising the kids who had been the cruelest.
She didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t shame. But her voice carried.
“I need to tell you something,” she said, looking each one of us in the eye. “That boy—your boy—is kind. He’s gentle. He’s brave. And he’s mine while he’s on this bus. So if you don’t like how he’s being treated, it’s time we fix it. Together.”
Then she walked back, smiled at my son, and helped him down the steps like he was royalty.
That night, for the first time in weeks, he sat at the table and laughed while telling me about his day.
He asked if we could draw rocket ships again.
And I silently thanked the woman who didn’t just drive a bus—but steered the whole day in a different direction.

05/10/2025

20 April 1933 | Oosterwolde, Netherlands 🇳🇱✡️
Sophia Kaatje van Hasselt was born into a Dutch Jewish family — a little girl with a whole life ahead of her.

In February 1943, at just 9 years old, Sophia was deported to Auschwitz with her parents, Simon and Geertje, and her older sister Hermi.
None of them survived.

One family among millions.
One name among names that must never be forgotten.

🕯️ Let us remember Sophia — not as a statistic, but as a child, a sister, a daughter.
May her memory, and that of her family, be a blessing.

05/10/2025

“My son was 3 1/2 years old at the time and still an only child. We tried to curb naughtiness by giving him ‘be good’ tablets every day. He was allowed 2 (rascals sweets!) tablets every morning before school. He would put it in his pocket and then eat it at school, and whenever we asked him or his teacher, they claimed the tablets worked quite well lol!

On this particular day, I dropped him off at school armed with his 2 ‘tablets’ and walked him to his class. There was only 1 other child there as it was quite early. The little boy looked quite scared and sad and the teacher explained it was his first day in a new school.

My son, Zaen went over to him and asked him his name, but he just looked away and his lip started quivering. The teacher and I were ready to intervene, when Zaen took the 2 Rascals out of his pocket, and offered both to this little boy without saying a word. He looked at Zaen’s hand, took the Rascals and smiled the biggest smile at my son! Zaen smiled back and my heart swelled with pride!
Zaen pulled out a chair next to this boy and they started chatting and playing.

Upon fetching him from school that day he said he did okay without his tablets and now we know it also helps for sadness!
This is my son, now 7, still amazes me with his kindheartedness and compassion. That was the purest form of kindness and thoughtfulness I had witnessed for a long time.”
Please follow us: Astonishing
Credit goes to the respective owner

05/10/2025

Anne explained in her diary how scared she was when the guns would go off during the night. She would occasionally sleep through it, but when the fighting woke her up, she often fled to her parents’ room, where Margot also slept.

In a birthday poem to Anne, Margot wrote of this frequent event:

When shots ring out in the dark of night,
The door creaks open and into sight
Come a hanky, a pillow, a figure in white…

Of course, Anne recorded this poem in its original Dutch:

‘s Nachts bij het allereerst geschiet
Daar kraakt een deur en men ziet
Een zakdoek, een kussen, en een kleine meid...

Anne Frank copied this poem down in her diary, , 79 years ago.
___
📸 PHOTO: Anne Frank, January 1942 © Anne Frank Fonds (colorization by me!)
___

05/10/2025

FAA Says Newark Airport Hit by New 90-Second Communications Outage
Full story in the comments👇👇👇

05/10/2025

I lost my scottie to cushings, and never felt right again. I went to the county humane society's website and saw "Bambi." She looked like a lab. But sleeker. Beautiful! I HAD to go see her. I called everything off the next morning, and I was there over an hour before the shelter opened to make sure I was first to get to her.

She was brought in the room with me, and wanted nothing to do with me. She was so shy, scared, timid...she was so hurt from her past. She wouldn't take treats unless I extended my arm all the way out. She walked up to me, got right in my face, and gave me a big kiss on the nose. I HAD to have her now!! I brought her home, and the first couple weeks were really rough with her.

She was so scared of me. She never barked. She was just content laying in a room by herself. I decided to name her "Boo" instead of "Bambi." Felt fitting, at the time. Also learned that she was a Plott Hound, a very unknown breed of dog. We went to bed one night and I was putting her in the crate right next to my bed, and she gave me a look. I let her out, and she slept with me in my bed that night. After that night, she really opened up.
Now we are so happy with each other ❤️

05/10/2025

Elisabeta Mitelman was born in 1937 in Târgu Mureş, Romania. She was the daughter of Jewish parents David and Esther Mitelman. In 1940, Târgu Mureş was ceded to the country of Hungary. In 1944, the N***s invaded Hungary. That same year, Elisabeta and her parents were sent to Auschwitz. The seven year old Elisabeta was sent to the gas chambers immediately upon arrival. May her memory be a blessing.

REMEMBER ELISABETA MITELMAN.

05/10/2025

A Retired Firefighter Was Mocked at a Game for His Burn Scars — Until Peyton Manning Walked Over and Sat Beside Him.
His name was Harold.
Sixty-five.
Retired after 30 years of service.
A fire in his last year left scars across his neck and jaw.
He rarely went out.
But his grandson surprised him with tickets to a Colts game —
their first one together.
They took their seats.
And not long after, some men in the row behind started whispering.
Loud enough for Harold to hear.
“Did you see that guy’s face?”
“Yikes. Looks like Halloween came early.”
Harold looked down.
Started pulling up his hoodie.
His grandson tried to smile through it.
But his eyes were glassy.
That’s when someone in a blue cap three rows ahead stood up.
Walked over.
Peyton Manning.
He sat right next to Harold.
Reached out his hand.
Said:
“Hey, mind if I sit here?
I always liked watching the game from this row.”
Then turned to the men behind and added:
“Best seat in the house —
right next to a real hero.”
Silence.
For the next hour, Peyton watched the game beside Harold.
Talked football.

Laughed with his grandson.
Never mentioned the scars.

Just made space where dignity could breathe again.
Before leaving, Peyton leaned in and whispered:
*“You didn’t run from the fire.

They’ll never understand what that takes.
But I do.”*

Then handed Harold a Colts cap.
Inside was a note:
“Scars mean you stayed.
And helped others leave.”

— Peyton Manning
Credits goes to the respective Owner
[𝘋𝘔 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭]