My grandfather was the strongest man I knew.
He never cried.
Not when life got hard.
Not when things fell apart.
Not even when my grandmother passed away.
He stayed silent.
Calm.
Unbreakable.
Or so we thought.
One afternoon, I went to visit him at the hospital.
He looked different.
Weaker.
But still quiet.
I sat next to him and held his hand.
He didn’t say anything.
Then suddenly…
He whispered:
“I wrote her letters.”
I frowned.
“What letters?”
He looked at me with eyes full of something I had never seen before.
Pain.
“Every day… since she left.”
My heart stopped.
He reached into the drawer and pulled out a small box.
Inside were dozens of letters.
All addressed to her.
All never sent.
And then…
For the first time in my life…
I saw him cry.