We write stories, post tributes, print books, and even make films once a person is gone. But why? Will they ever see it? Will they ever feel it? Or is it only to
show the world that we cared? If only we had the courage to say those words while they were alive. If only we had the time to hold their hand, to look into their
eyes and say, “You matter to me.”
Children run after parents when they need something, but the same parents are often left alone in old age. Do we ever pause and ask ourselves, what right do we really have over a house, over a family, if the very foundation of it, our parents, are pushed aside? These are the same people who gave us food when they themselves stayed
hungry, who worked tirelessly so we could sleep peacefully, who carried us when our feet were too small to walk. And now, when their steps falter, when their voices tremble, when their hearts only crave for love, we look away.
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