One day, they will think of you in the quiet. Not in the dramatic ways people imagine-just in the small pauses between their life. In the moments where the room is still and there is nowhere left to hide from their own memory. And that's when they will remember how much you gave, and how gently you did it, and how they treated your devotion like it was something endless. They will remember you when someone else refuses to do what you did. When no one stays the extra minute, when no one asks twice, when no one tries to understand them the way you tried. And maybe it will finally ache the way it ached in you—because some people don't realize what they had until the absence teaches them what your presence was worth.