What once seemed like a simple routine was actually an act of love and quiet determination. He wasn’t just spending time with me—he was holding onto me in the only way he knew how. Now, when I think of those visits, I see them as his silent farewell, offered long before either of us understood it.
It reminds me that love doesn’t always announce itself loudly; sometimes, it lives in small, repeated gestures that only reveal their true meaning with time.
