A few years ago, my calendar was filled with holidays and frequent birthday celebrations every month. But as my journey through this world moves forward, birthday celebrations have dwindled, and my calendar is increasingly filled with the anniversaries of loved ones’ passing. And although I set out to write about various topics, seventy percent of the emails I receive are written with Silent Tears.
It has been almost three years since my mother died. For nearly two years following her death, I stopped writing or giving talks to groups of people. However, I have continued to converse—whether by phone, in writing, or in person—with those who have asked to speak with me.
Despite having gained extensive knowledge of human behavior, there are times when I cannot decipher the feelings hidden within the empathetic emotions of others; there is a vast difference between physical pain and the emotional pain felt in the heart—though both can be excruciating. Each person experiences them with varying degrees of intensity, causing their emotional intelligence to fluctuate.
It can be difficult to grasp that life is filled with both happy and sad moments. Yet, we humans possess the capacity to live through or overcome each of them, depending on our attitude and our willingness to accept that death is part of the process of learning to live. And there is no set timeframe for shedding the Silent Tears that spring from the heart…
July 10, 2026
For Kely,
I remember June 5, 2018, as if it were yesterday. It was 9:35 at night when—unknowingly—I heard the sound of your voice for the last time. Your mind was full of projects to undertake, and your heart was wrapped in dreams waiting to be fulfilled.
“Time flies,” as the saying goes. But for you, time no longer exists. I do not wish to observe the anniversary of your passing. So, I am going to erase it from my calendar. After all, you didn’t stop living that day; you simply left this world.
You know, I’m going to mark this day on my calendar with colorful stars. Because it’s your birthday. And I choose to celebrate, because I don’t want to cry anymore. Today, I will remember you as an enchanted princess in a magical world, a world filled with color and dreams born of emotions wrapped in feelings written on strips of paper. I’ll remember that beautiful, infectious smile you used to have.
I know you are in a perfect place, where happiness and peace blend harmoniously to create a reality of absolute truth—a place where death loses its power. I know you will live on as long as the memory of you sails within me, upon a river of silent tears flowing from my heart; and year after year, on your birthday, I will remember you…
…until we meet again with the KING.


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