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Let me share another thing my grandpa taught me when I was little. He said, "Always be kind to others, even when they're not kind to you. That's what makes a person truly strong." Those words stayed with me forever.

When I was young, very young, there was this neighbor of ours, a kind woman who lived alone. She would sit on her porch every evening, and the other people in town, they wondered about her, why she never married or went to the social gatherings.

Christmas morning. Empty kitchen. My granddaughter's card sits unopened. like her mother, she doesn't visit anymore. I'm stirring cookie dough nobody will eat. The house feels bigger now. quieter. Sometimes healing tastes like sugar cookies and solitude.

A old man saw his children fighting over food. He took three plates and gave them different amounts. They complained. Then he mixed all food together and divided equally. He told them, when you share things, everybody gets happy.

You see, back when I was young, there was this family living next door, very, very different from the rest of us. The mother worked so hard, taking care of five children all by herself. People in town would talk, but she just kept going, doing what she had to do.

Let me tell you what my grandpa told me when I was eight years old. Son, treat others with kindness and respect. The way you make people feel will stay with them forever. Those were wise words I never forgot.

You're standing in the sun, oblivious to the sunset coming for you. I’ve seen the end, and it’s closer than you think. Stop wasting your precious breath on vanities. Every second you squander is a coin you’ll never get back. Wake up before the dark finds you.

I watch the light fade across the floorboards, tracing paths I’ve walked for decades. There’s a weight to the silence here, a heavy collection of moments I let slip away. I suppose some stories are meant to stay quiet, echoing only within these four walls until the very end.