One thing I will never tell you
is that you are strong.
She was.
Stronger than me,
by miles.
I still don’t know how she bore such pain
and stayed kind,
attentive,
listening—
to me.
She held space for my agonies
and offered
tips on surviving
this strange, strange life.
One day I said it.
“Sammy, you are very strong.”
I meant it
with all my heart.
But on the phone,
she paused.
Her voice—
not angry,
just… surprised.
“Of all the people in the world,” she said,
“I didn’t expect this from you.
You never saw the effort
I put in
just to accept things as they are?”
And just like that,
my compliment
became a wound.
I think I hurt her.
So bad.
But she forgave me.
Because that’s who she was.
From that day on,
when I want to say,
“You are strong,”
I stop myself.
Instead, I try—
to see the quiet effort
people make,
to carry their days
without breaking.
Sammy,
that’s just one
of the gifts
you left with me.
