The little stone in your shoe.

She didn't address the note to anyone in particular, but the words landed heavily. I was a newly minted CEO then, and that wasn't just a resignation—it was a reckoning.

I took it personally.

Not just because of the loss, but because of the silence that followed.

I tried, I called, I nudged.
But true to her words, she never responded. It was a moment left unresolved—one that lingers within me today. Her message left me with questions I couldn't answer.

That's when I realized how many moments in life, small and large, remain incomplete, unspoken, unresolved, and unacknowledged.

They accumulate.
They weigh more than we are willing to admit.

It could be a conversation that fizzled, a rupture left unattended, arguments, missed chances, and words we held back.

More than just bad memories, they become burdens. They follow us, showing up in our tension, hesitation, and inability to fully arrive in the present.

When we struggle to move on from a breakup, a family rift, or a professional loss, it's often these unspoken moments that echo the loudest because some part of them still wants to be acknowledged.

The more we carry them, the heavier they get.

Writing helps, so I wrote her a letter.

I said what I hadn't said and asked for forgiveness—for not noticing, for not knowing what she needed. I wished her healing and peace.

But I never sent it. I didn't need to.

Because closure isn't always about resolution, neatly tying things up, and hearing the other side.

Sometimes, closure is honoring the weight of what is held and then choosing, gently, to set it down.

Letting go is remembering without carrying. It is caring—without reliving.
Letting go doesn't mean it didn't matter.
It means you've decided to stop letting the pain do the talking.
To stop walking with the stone still in your shoe.

If an unfinished conversation quietly follows you, what would it feel like to honor it without holding onto it?