Strong, Independent Women

The Strongest Soul I Know

You never asked for appreciation.

You just kept showing up.

Even on weekends, even during your notice period—while others slowed down, you kept going. Quietly. Sincerely. Like always.

You’ve been the kind of woman who doesn’t just carry her own weight, but lifts others up without anyone noticing.

You’ve always said, “I don’t have a good sense of humour.”

But how do you explain the way you laughed at my worst jokes?

At “Ground to Earth,” at “JD,” at “Hawa mai udna”—like it was the funniest thing ever.

Maybe you didn’t laugh at the jokes. Maybe you laughed because you knew I was trying, for you.

You used to roll your eyes when I called you the “strong, independent woman.”

But a part of you—maybe the part that never got enough appreciation—wanted to hear it.

So I kept saying it. Again and again. Not because it was funny.

But because it was true.

Because someone had to remind you who you are.

You never asked to be admired.

But how could anyone not?

The way you handled pressure.

The way you cried silently when blamed for things you didn’t do.

The way you never let it show when you were hurt.

The way you still made time to help others—even when you had no time for yourself.

You once asked me, “Why does everyone say I don’t take a stand for myself?”

And I wish you could see the version of yourself that I see.

The one who doesn’t need to raise her voice to make a point.

The one who keeps showing up, even when the world doesn’t clap.

You’ve been my favorite story to witness.

And no matter where you go—I’ll still carry these moments. Quietly. Gratefully.

Because some people don’t need to say “I’m proud of you” for you to know they are.

You’ve always been the light of this office.

Even if you never believed it.

And this is just my small way of saying it out loud:

I’ve seen your light

I’ve felt it. And I’ll never forget it.