What is written here is more than a diary: it is the note of those who carry not the weight of losing, but of never having, and of moments when waiting transforms into faith. Do not rush through it; these lines are meant to be read in a whisper, to be heard in silence. Perhaps answers will not come, perhaps the wounds will bleed again; yet the small light that stands here is the reason to continue.
The reason I share these lines is simple: to know that I am not alone, and that even being alone carries a kind of resistance; to share that resistance, that waiting, with the reader. If somewhere among these pages you hear the echo of your own waiting, then this book has fulfilled its purpose.
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