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Lost my husband

The continuation of the dream

It's been half a year since my husband died.

A gentle warmth remains in the room where he was.

The chair he was always sitting on. A wristwatch that he cherished. A book he had read many times. The last perfume he put on. Memories of the two.


I can't be sad forever.

My joy is his joy.

I vowed to live strong and embraced my heart.

Choose clothes. Make up. Apply perfume.

Open the jewelry box in a graceful mood.

My collection lined up inside.

A form of memory that brought happiness and healed sorrow.

There were as many dramas as there were jewelry.

Let's make a new drama again.

To beautify the life that will continue.

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