I used to believe that closure would come from you, that one day we would sit across from each other and you would finally explain why you let us unravel the way you did. But then it hit me one morning while making coffee, the silence of the kitchen echoing around me, that closure does not come from someone else’s explanation. Closure comes when you decide to stop looking for answers that would not change anything. You left in pieces, little by little, until there was nothing left of us but polite conversations and unreturned calls. I begged the universe for a reason, but now I realize the reason does not matter. What matters is that I survived the storm of you, and in the process, I learned to hold myself tighter than you ever did. I used to think your absence would leave me hollow, but instead it gave me space to fill my life with people who show up and love me without conditions. That is something I could never have learned if you stayed.