That was when I finally understood something that took me years to put into words:
Love doesn’t need witnesses.
It doesn’t argue at doorways or demand recognition. It doesn’t rely on bloodlines or labels to validate itself. Sometimes it works quietly in the background, making sure you are seen, protected, and remembered—even after goodbye.
I wasn’t his family because of paperwork.
I wasn’t his family because of DNA.
I was his family because he showed up.
Day after day.
Year after year.
And in the end, that love outlasted everything else.
