You might not remember me - and that’s okay - but I’ll always remember you. When my stepdad’s health took a turn for the worse, I was already in a deep depression. I reached a point where I wasn’t sure I would make it to the next day. I had just started to get help again and was undergoing transcranial magnetic stimulation treatments when I got the call that I needed to come home now, that it was bad.

On the day before he died, we met you. Your genuine kindness and empathy, the real you, came through in every interaction with him and the rest of my family. In a time that we needed it the most, you were our rock, the one piece of solid ground we found when the rest of our world was crumbling under our feet. I asked you for truthful answers to hard questions, and you gave me truthful answers phrased with compassion and love. I was falling apart, but it felt like your hug was holding all my broken pieces together so I could get through this.

I watched him die. I could have spiraled out of control. I could have been the next life ended, another soul gone too soon. Instead, I was prepared and felt supported. I felt love from a stranger and thought…yes, this is terrible. Yes, my life will never be the same. But I’m not alone. I’m not alone. Thank you for supporting my stepdad in his final moments. Thank you for supporting my mom as she stayed so strong for him. Thank you for supporting me as I struggled to find a reason to keep living with death staring us all in the face.

You are seen. You are so appreciated. You are loved. Thank you.