The man smiled softly, his eyes reflecting a kindness reminiscent of Henry’s. “Yes, we all knew him in different ways. Each of us encountered Henry during our own times of need. He had a way of bringing people together, of reminding us that we mattered.”
I opened the envelope with trembling hands. Inside was a letter written in Henry’s familiar, shaky handwriting. It read:
“Dear Claire,
If you’re reading this, it means I’m not there in person, but rest assured, I’m with you in spirit. Over the years, you showed me what true kindness looks like. You never asked for anything in return; you just gave. Those small gestures were my lifeline, and I want you to know that I never took them for granted.
