I used to think strength was rooted in the fight. Prevailing. Surviving the things determined to tear us down. But true strength isn’t necessarily overcoming the fight—it is how we fight. It is not within the sword itself, but in how we wield it. And sometimes, it’s not about survival at all. It’s about living through the worst possible loss, heartache and pain, regardless of whether or not we make it to the other side. My mother lived through an unimaginable tragedy. A devastating loss. In the end, she did not survive. But while she did not survive the battle itself, I am certain she wielded
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