They cleared his room quickly, as if completing a task rather than honoring a life. Personal belongings were sorted with efficiency, not reflection. I packed my things quietly under watchful eyes, realizing there would be no meaningful farewell—no acknowledgment of the years spent caring for him through difficult days, long silences, and moments that required patience and strength.
When I walked out of that house, it felt like leaving a chapter that had never been fully recognized.
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