A few days ago, while I was looking for an important document among my old belongings, I least expected pieces of my past to surface. Every piece of paper I touched echoed the memories I wasn’t prepared to meet. Some belonged to my late husband, some to my father. It wasn’t just about things. It was about moments, voices, and a LIFE THAT ONCE WAS. My father used to say that feeling upset is only human, but how long we dwell in it, shapes who we become. So, on the days I feel
