 a boy named George. he loved drawing the stars on his notebook, and listening to his grandma’s stories. one day, everything changed—his grandma, who always smelled of lavender and gave the warmest hugs, passed away.
At first, George didn’t understand. She had always been there. How could she just be… gone? Sometimes, he felt sad, and other times, he felt angry—angry that she left, angry that no one could fix it. He wanted to talk to her, but she wasn’t there. And worst of all, some days he felt okay, and that made him feel guilty.
At school, things were different too. Gorges's best friend, Mia, didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing at all. His teacher, Mr. Potter, noticed that George didn’t want to play as much, and sometimes, he just stared at his notebook, drawing nothing.
One day, Mr. Potter sat beside George during lunch. “I lost my grandfather when I was your age,” he said gently. “It hurt a lot. I missed him every day. But then I found a way to keep him close.”
George looked up. “How?”
“By remembering,” Mr. Potter said. “By talking about him, writing about him, even drawing pictures. And I let myself feel however I needed to feel.”
George thought about that. That night, he picked up his notebook and drew a picture of his grandma, with her warm smile and twinkling eyes. He wrote down his favorite story she used to tell him. And when he missed her, he whispered to the stars, just like she had told him to do .things started to change. Some days were still hard. Some days, he felt okay. But he learned that it was alright to feel both. At school, he told Mia about his grandma, and she listened. At home, he made a memory box with his mum, filling it with lavender sachets, old photographs, and little notes.
And every night, when George looked up at the sky, he remembered that the people we love never really leave us—they just whisper from the stars.


when the stars whisper 

George sits on a cozy couch beside Grandma, his notebook open on his lap filled with hand-drawn stars. Grandma gestures toward the stars while telling stories, her eyes twinkling with warmth. A window nearby reveals a night sky full of constellations.

George loved drawing stars in his notebook while Grandma told stories. Her tales about constellations made the night sky magical. She always said stars were windows to other worlds. George would listen for hours, nestled against her lavender-scented cardigan.

The Star Drawer

mum and George sat at the dinner table, they are both sad 

One rainy Tuesday, Grandma's chair sat empty at dinner. Mum's eyes were red and puffy when she explained Grandma had gone to live among the stars. George didn't understand how someone could just disappear. He waited for her to return, but days passed silently.

The Empty Chair

George sits at his school desk staring at an open, blank notebook. His pencil hovers motionless above the page. Across the classroom, Mia watches him with concern on her face.

At school, George stared at blank pages in his notebook. The stars wouldn't come anymore. Mia watched him from across the classroom but didn't know what to say. Even break times felt too noisy now.

Silent Notebook

Mr. Potter sits beside George at a lunch table, leaning in slightly with a gentle expression. George looks up from his untouched lunch with surprise in his eyes.

Mr. Potter noticed George sitting alone at lunch. "I lost my grandfather when I was eight too," he said gently. "It's okay to miss her." George looked up, surprised someone understood.

Mr. Potter's Story

George and Mr. Potter sit on a bench in the school yard. George looks up questioningly while Mr. Potter gazes thoughtfully into the distance, his hand resting supportively on George's shoulder.

"How did you stop feeling sad?" George asked Mr. Potter. "I didn't stop feeling sad completely," Mr. Potter replied. "But I found ways to remember him." George wondered what that meant.

Finding Words

George sits on his bed in the evening light, notebook open on his lap. His hand draws a wobbly star while more stars begin to take shape on the page, forming the outline of Grandma's smiling face among them.

That night, George opened his notebook again. His pencil hovered over the page before drawing one wobbly star. Then another, and another. Soon, Grandma's smiling face appeared among them.

The First Star

George and Mia sit side by side on a playground bench. George gestures toward the sky while talking about constellations. Mia listens attentively, her head tilted slightly.

"My grandma knew all the constellations," George told Mia. Mia listened quietly as words tumbled out. "She made the best cookies too." Sharing memories felt like opening a window.

Telling Mia

George and Mum sit on his bedroom floor painting stars on a wooden box. George's bedroom wall has several hand-drawn stars. The open box contains a lavender sachet, old photographs, and handwritten recipe cards.

Mum found George drawing stars in his bedroom one day. "Let's make something special," she suggested. Together they decorated a wooden box with painted stars. Inside went Grandma's lavender sachet, photos, and recipes.

The Memory Box

A split scene showing George on two different days: on one side he sits alone with slumped shoulders during lunch, on the other he laughs with Mia while Mr. Potter watches approvingly from nearby.

Some mornings, George woke up sad. Other days, he laughed at Mia's jokes. Mr. Potter explained that grief comes in waves. "Both feelings are okay," he assured George.

Different Days

Mum, George, and Mia huddle around a telescope on a grassy hilltop. The night sky above is filled with brilliant stars and visible constellations. George points upward while Mum squeezes his hand.

Mum took George to the hilltop with a telescope. They spotted constellations Grandma had described. "Do you think she can see us?" George whispered. Mum squeezed his hand.

Stargazing

George kneels by his bedroom window in moonlight, whispering toward the stars. His curtains flutter slightly in the breeze, creating shadow patterns that seem to reach back toward him.

George started whispering to the stars each night. He told them about school, about Mia, about missing Grandma. Sometimes, when the breeze rustled the curtains, it felt like answers.

Whispers Back

George and Mia sit under a tree in the schoolyard. George holds his notebook open, now filled with colorful stars and stories. A lavender plant grows nearby, and the sky above is bright blue with wispy clouds that seem to form star shapes.

George's notebook filled with stars and stories. Grandma's memory lived in lavender scents and twinkling lights. "The people we love become stars," George told Mia. "They're always listening, even when we can't see them."