STUMBLR

“I don’t regret him,” she says, “The only thing I regret is not being kinder while we still had time. That’s all. I wish I had told him he was worth the Earth and that the stars shine brighter in his eyes than they do in the night sky. I regret not telling him that I loved him. I wish I had reminded him of it every day and night. That’s the thing. You always forget to remind people when you think you’ll have them forever.”

You wake up every morning to fight the same demons that left you so tired the night before, and that, my love, is bravery.

When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.