there is nothing so painful as watching one of our loved ones get sick and stay sick. as we helplessly hear our "feel better" fade into "feel the best you can", we often find ourselves on repeat: is there anything i can do? and while this kind and genuine offer indeed hugs the heart, there's something that sounds even sweeter: here's what i did. and lest it seem i'm on the verge of virtue signaling, i happen to be that loved one who got sick and stayed sick. for three years now, i've watched my body steadily decline due to an incurable autoimmune disease. last month though, a close family member texted out of the blue and said she was ordering takeout from my favorite restaurant. my instructions were to send her my full order, and she would take care of the rest. a playful wink followed with, "don't you dare forget dessert." come saturday night, all i had to do was open the door. honestly, it was one of the most enjoyable meals i’ve had in months. i could tell you it's because the food was particularly delicious that night (for it was), but my heart has a hunch it was the love that enveloped the evening. so if there's someone close to you living with chronic illness, consider pressing pause on asking once in a while and just dive into doing. maybe it's a heartfelt handwritten card they unexpectedly receive in the mail (a treasure among the medical bills accumulating). maybe it’s a bouquet of spring flowers dropped off on their doorstep, followed by a quick text as you drive away, "open your door for a sweet surprise." and less tangible but just as touching, maybe it’s merely a playlist of their favorite songs with some lyrics you think would sweep in a little solace. sometimes i think we wait to act out our love for fear it won't be what the person needs. but when survival mode becomes the rule rather than the exception, the feeling of not being forgotten is worth its weight in gold. how it surpasses any superficial value of whatever we give, for any sweetness sent their way might just be enough to keep kindling the light of hope and healing. 📸: mike bautista