Dear Strong Woman,
I see you. You ask questions, seek answers, and attempt to fix, even as you know it is all slipping through your fingers. There is no stopping the dwindling of a life called to its ending.
I see you. You hold up those beside you who can no longer stand in their grief. You sit and listen and hold and cry along.
I see you. You hold the hand of the dying, watch for the last gasp of breath, see the small heartbeat fade smaller still.
I see you. You believe you are alone, and of course it feels true in those hardest of moments.
See me. We are of a village. You have walked the path worn by those before you. You form the footprints for those of us who will step behind you.
See me. You are showing me the way through grief and death and more grief and then the reaching out to others.
I see you. See me. We are of a village, and you are not alone.