WHEN I was younger, I used to believe that I could help the people I loved by fighting their battles for them. Every time someone would confide in me, I would think a thousand times over how I could possibly share the burden and just make their suffering go away. It really mattered to me that I was able to do something about every situation, and it still does. Eventually I realized that sometimes, the best I could do is to be on the sidelines, reminding them that they are not alone.
Looking back, whenever I would find myself in a rough patch, I would often go to my friends to seek comfort and assurance. I never expected them to be the ones solving my problems, but I went to them for a warm hug and a gentle smile to remind me that we will always find a way out. They always made me feel that I never have to go through anything alone, and that was enough to make me believe that there will always be some light at the end of the tunnel. It took me a while to realize it, but I know now that I don’t have to be the hero in someone else’s story.
Just like how I craved a sense of companionship, perhaps that’s what they needed from me too. As much as I would want to do something more for the people I love, their battles are their own chances to grow. I have no intention of leaving them to do everything alone, but I am giving them the much-needed space to breathe. When they finally call me, I will still be there.
We all have our unspoken moments of vulnerability that we would rather keep within our own little worlds. We may not know it at the time, but the people who care would be able to sense our absence in between sentences. They would be able to grasp the hints of distress in our simplest banters—or the lack of it. In those moments when we feel alone, that’s when we should glance sideways to see those who walk with us in silence.
I may not always be there in the grand scheme of things, but I will be there for the late nights, the sad afternoons, and the somber mornings. I will be there through the little things that fill the gaps and holes when everything’s falling apart. I have a list of sad songs we can listen to together and a list of sappy movies to cry to without worrying if it’s too much. I know this might not be a lot, but sometimes a gentle nudge is all we need to keep it together.
