[Verse 1]
Mailbox full of postcards from the days when Drew had to go, [breath]
A single photo on the dashboard, chipped mug with a D, he hums two notes at dawn, keeps the habit steady, keeps me free,
Kids whisper secrets under covers, midnight walks with sticky shoes and small hands in mine,
I count beats, box-breathe, therapy checks, I clock the time — survival in the lines.
Depression presses like a winter coat, anxiety writes its name in steam on the glass,
But I press my palm to my chest, feel the pulse, let the moments pass.
I write little notes and tuck them in a jar, Drew's handwriting on a grocery list — a promise folded from afar,
We trade air kisses, Drew listening to munchkins bed time tales.
[Pre-Chorus]
I stitch the nights with ordinary things — coffee steam, late night songs, the way he says my name,
I hang on to tiny anchors when the world forgets the flame. [breath]
[Chorus]
With every tear, we rise — we talk, we cry, we fight [breath]
With every tear, we rise — hold my hand, hold the line, we survive.
With every tear, we rise — chant it loud, small mouths sing, love reprised,
With every tear, we rise — family armor, steady heart, we rise. [breath]
[Verse 2]
Therapy notes in a spiral notebook, bear on the bed where I hold it tight and sit and talk on my husband all night,
I read his letters like a map, trace the coffee stains that point me back to the memories we have,
Panic flares like bad streetlights — sudden, sharp, electric in the ribs,
But I call my counselor, talk to the girls while I practice grounding: five senses, five fingers on the edge.
Stress folds clothes into quiet corners, but we fold it into prayers and playlists too,
Cereal mornings, band-aids taped like medals, the kids’ crayons color me through.
We make a schedule for the sadness, name it, tame it, put it in the drawer,
Medication, meditation, midnight check-ins, therapy, we knock on hope's door.
Drew promised on the back porch, ‘I’ll be home before you know,’ — I keep that promise on repeat,
When the system kept him locked, I kept the porch light on — for him, for us, for the heartbeat of our love. [breath]
[Pre-Chorus]
Count the small things: a laugh, the clink of cereal, the way we love from afar,
Those details hold like ballast when the current wants to tear. [breath]
[Chorus]
With every tear, we rise — porch light steady, dashboard glow, we drive, [breath]
With every tear, we rise — hold my hand, hold the line, we survive.
With every tear, we rise — chant it loud, small mouths sing, love reprised,
With every tear, we rise — family armor, steady heart, we rise. [breath]
[Bridge]
Through the glass I pressed my palm to his — a rectangle of cold, a phone call soaked in static,
The smell of laundry from his sleeve, his laugh caught on phone like a relic — dramatic, cinematic.
I’d read his handwriting by the porch light: ‘Baby, don't give up, I’ll be back in July,’
Lockup nights taught me to be strong and never ever lose hope. We love you Drew
