What I gave my mother mattered. Even when she could not say it aloud. And in the end, it gave something back. Not wealth. Not recognition. But a deep, steady certainty that I had chosen with my heart.
For those who are caring for a parent at home, often unseen and unacknowledged, know this. Your presence has meaning. Your patience counts. Even when no one else seems to notice, love is being recorded in ways you may never fully see.
