I was so sorry to hear about Linda. I've been thinking about you constantly, and I wanted to put something in your hands that you can read whenever you like, or not at all.
I keep coming back to when Linda taught us both to make her lemon cake. That memory feels warm to me, and I wanted you to know I'm holding onto it, and that I'm holding onto it with you.
You are the friend who always checks in. You notice when someone is quiet. You call, you show up, and you make people feel looked after without making a fuss about it. I've always been proud to know you, and grateful too. You are steady and kind in a way that makes other people feel safe. Now I'd like to be that for you, in whatever small ways I can.
You don't have to be the strong one right now. You don't have to say anything, explain anything, or take care of anyone else. Whatever today looks like, and whatever tomorrow looks like, it's all allowed. I'm not going anywhere.
On Thursday I'll bring dinner. You don't need to cook, or host, or even talk. We can sit at the table, or on the couch, or in the quiet. I'll bring the food and a chair beside you, and that's all. If you'd rather be alone, just tell me and I'll leave it at your door.
Please don't feel you need to reply to this. I only wanted you to know that you are surrounded, even when it feels otherwise, and that there is a place beside me that is always yours, like a lit window and a door that stays open.
I'm so glad you're my friend, Daniel.