๐๐ซ๐๐ฆ๐ง๐ ๐จ๐ ๐ง๐๐ฃ๐ข ๐๐ ๐ ๐ข๐ฅ๐ง๐ ๐ค๐จ๐ ๐ก๐๐ก๐๐จร๐ ๐ฉร - ๐ฃ๐๐๐ฅ๐ ๐ฅ๐๐๐๐ฅ๐๐ข ๐๐ฆ๐ง๐๐ฉ๐๐ฆ ๐ง๐๐๐ฅ๐ ๐๐ฆ ๐ ๐๐๐ก๐ ๐ข๐ ๐๐๐๐ง๐ ๐ง๐๐๐ง ๐ก๐ข ๐ข๐ก๐ ๐ฆ๐๐๐ฆ-๐๐๐ง๐๐๐ฅ ๐ฅ๐๐๐๐ฅ๐๐ข ๐๐ฆ๐ง๐๐ฉ๐๐ฆ
There is a kind of death that no one sees. There is no funeral, no farewell, no people crying.
It is a silent kind of death… it happens when a version of you no longer fits inside who you are.
And even though it hurts, you need to let it die.
Why?
Because continuing to be who you were begins to suffocate who you are becoming.
The problem is that we were taught to avoid the end of anything at all costs. But growth requires endings, it requires rupture, it requires the courage to face the emptiness between who you were and who you still do not know how to be. And that in-between space is frightening, I know. Because it has no identity, no certainties… it only has you, bare and raw, exposed, without masks.
But you know, every time you go through that, something new is born. Not perfect, not ready, but more true, more aligned with what you truly feel, even if you still cannot explain it.
“Resurrection” does not come as a miracle, it comes as the consequence of someone who had the courage to die within without giving up on themselves.
Perhaps the hardest part is not dying so many times, but accepting that it will never stop. Truly living is a constant cycle of inner farewells.
Every version you bury is not really a loss, it is a space you open so that you may become more whole, more conscious… more you. Whatever happens, whatever you live through, never give up on yourself.
A very happy day to everyone, always with God in your heart.
Father Ricardo Esteves
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