She had protected my future and my past.
Because of her, I visited my daughter for the first time. I saw her run toward me without knowing my name yet—and somehow, she still felt like mine.
Because of her, I sat across from my parents again, older, softer, broken in the same places I was.
True kindness isn’t always loud.
Sometimes it’s someone working quietly, patiently, behind the scenes—holding pieces of your life together until you’re strong enough to carry them yourself.
