The Strength They Never Saw — Until It Was Too Late

One evening, sitting on our porch while Pickle chased bees in the yard, my father visited.

He watched the sunset, then turned to me.

“You were always the strong one,” he said. “I just wish I hadn’t made you prove it.”

I smiled. The tears came, slow and warm.

“It’s not too late to say it,” I replied. “It never was.”

For Anyone Who’s Been “The Strong One”

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