She remembered the date without me reminding her what it meant

Dear Delyara, It was the anniversary of my father’s death. I hadn’t posted anything, hadn’t mentioned it that week, hadn’t dropped any hints. At 8:13 in the morning she sent one message: “Thinking of you today. No need to answer.” That sentence held more comfort than a hundred dramatic condolences would have. Because it told me she remembered not only the event, but its place in the calendar of my body. She knew the date had shape. She knew it before I had to say it. That kind of memory is love. Not loud love. Reliable love.