You Do Not Have to Be Strong

The sun is dipping below the horizon, and the day is finally loosening its grip on your shoulders. You found yourself driving past that grocery store again, the one where the aisles still hold the ghost of a voice you used to know.

You held your breath in the parking lot, terrified that if you exhaled, the tears would come and you'd fall apart right there between the cars. But listen — the light does not require you to hold it together.

It is not afraid of your grief spilling out in the fluorescent glow of the evening. There is a peace that does not depend on the absence of pain, a quiet that sits with you even when your chest is heaving.

You do not have to be strong for the sunset. The light is already inside the ache, waiting for you to let it out.