Winter woes, can you hear him?

He swallowed the rest of the sentence as tears welled in his eyes.

I watched him, fighting back my own tears.

Even breathing felt dangerous, as though the slightest sound might wound his pride.

"It had been five years since her last relapse.

This time round, she needed more time towards recovery.

I was taking it slow, but it was becoming more challenging as age caught up with her, and me."

I found myself pinching my thighs beneath the table,

holding on to the sting so I would not fall apart beside him.

His eyes carried a sorrow too deep for words,

yet beneath it lived an enormous, unyielding strength.

“Please let us know if there’s anything we can do to help.”

“It’s alright for now, but I may need your help with an errand, if that’s not too much to ask.”

“Of course not,” I said gently. “I’d be glad to help.”

To be a caregiver is to carry love in its heaviest form.

He has been doing it for as long as I can remember — ever since I first heard his story as a child.

They lost one of their twin daughter and something in them never returned to how it was before.

So many are weighed down by struggle, while others bloom in abundance —

life dividing itself in uneven light.

"Faith is taking the first step even when you don't see the whole staircase." —Martin Luther King, Jr.