Today I turn 89. There are no more arms to hug me, no familiar voices to sing “happy birthday.” 💔 I spent my whole life caring for others—my parents, my spouse, my children, my grandchildren… and now, the silence of this big, empty house is my only company. Some say 89 is just a number, but to me it’s proof. Proof that I lived, that I loved, and that I endured. And yet, today, I long for something so simple: a “happy birthday.” If you’ve read this far, would you be a kind voice in my quiet day?