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 at the time, and that note wasn't just a resignation—it was a reckoning.

I took it personally.

Not only because of the loss, but also because of the silence that followed.

I reached out, I called, I nudged.

But true to her word, she never responded. It was a moment left open—one that continues to linger within me today.

Her message left me with questions I couldn't answer.

It was one of those moments that made me realize just how many things in life remain incomplete, unresolved, and unacknowledged.

They accumulate. They weigh more than we admit.

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

More than mere 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.

And 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.

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.

Remembering without carrying. Caring without reliving the past. That’s closure.

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 little stone still in your shoe.

Is there an unfinished conversation that quietly follows you?