Not just love and memories. But an apartment building she’d quietly invested in.
Its value? Life-changing.
She knew, even after death, how to lift me.
Her final message across time: You matter. Always have.
Ellis and I bought a home.
We started a scholarship for nursing students who feel invisible, in her name.
For those carrying silent strength.
For those like me.
A Sunset, A Change
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.”
