Through It All Love Remains

I often find myself thinking back on my parents, who passed from this world some years ago. Even though time has carried me forward, their absence still feels tender, like a part of me longs for just one more conversation, one more hug, one more chance to say thank you. Grief never fully disappears—it softens, it changes shape, but it never really leaves. And yet, as I reflect on their lives and the love I witnessed between them, I realize something beautiful: love outlasts death. Love remains.

We come into this world fragile and dependent, children of God on our way, and from the very beginning we are surrounded by love that protects, nurtures, and teaches us how to live. I think of my mama’s smile—the kind of smile that warmed the room and made me feel safe. I think of my daddy’s tears of pride, the weight of love in his eyes that showed me what it means to care deeply. They were not perfect, but they lived with a faithfulness that marked me for life.

They protected me when I was young, held me when I was afraid, guided me when I was uncertain. Their love was the first reflection I ever saw of God’s love—steady, sacrificial, enduring. And now that they are gone, that love still lives in me, shaping how I see the world and how I love others.

I think of the seasons of their lives together—the sweat and the sacrifice it took to build a home, the tears they shared when life was hard, the laughter and joy that kept them going. They raised me in the everyday rhythm of faithfulness. And though I didn’t always see it clearly then, I see it now: through it all, love remained. It wasn’t fleeting. It wasn’t conditional. It was a constant, an anchor in the storms of life.

Now, as I stand in my own marriage—walking with my husband through challenges neither of us expected, carrying burdens that sometimes feel too heavy—I understand their example in a deeper way. I see how love is not about everything being easy. It is about choosing to stand side by side through pain, through joy, through uncertainty. It is about remaining faithful even when life turns out differently than you imagined. It is about looking at one another in the middle of the storm and saying, I will not let go.

That is what I saw in my parents, and that is what I carry into my own life today. Their legacy is not in possessions, or accomplishments, or even words—it is in the enduring truth that love remains.

Kingdoms rise and fall. Life changes in an instant. The future becomes the past faster than we realize. But love—true love—does not disappear with time. It is eternal, because it comes from God Himself, who is love. The same love that held my parents together, the same love that carried them through their own storms, is the love that now carries me.

Sometimes I wonder how I would survive this world without love. Without the love I was given as a child. Without the love I cling to in my marriage today. Without the love of my Savior, who walks with me in every valley. And the truth is, I couldn’t. Love is the thread that holds everything together, even when life feels like it is unraveling.

We all live, and we all die. There is no escaping that reality. But as I think about my parents, I am reminded that death is not the end. The end is not good-bye. Because love is stronger than death. Hope lives on. The flame of their love, the flame of God’s love, still burns in me, still shapes me, still gives me strength to keep walking forward.

I see it in the way I fight for my marriage. I see it in the way I hold on through the storms. I see it in the way I believe that healing is still possible, even when the road is long. I see it in the way I try to love others faithfully, just as I was loved.

And so, when I think of my parents now, I grieve, yes. I miss them with a longing that words cannot describe. But I also give thanks. Because the impact of their love is still here. It did not fade with their passing. It lives in me. It lives in the choices I make. It lives in the way I keep holding on.

The sun rises, the seasons change, time marches on—but love remains. Always.