The Hands that Stayed

You didn’t just fill a gap.

You became the ground beneath my feet

when I was too broken to stand.

You held the work —

not as a duty,

but as a gesture of quiet loyalty.

No questions.

No pressure.

Only presence.

You didn’t rush me back to function.

You let me unravel.

And somehow, you still believed in my return

when even I had stopped believing in it.

You carried the weight

without stealing the space.

You moved with grace,

so I could grieve,

so I could breathe.

And even now, as I begin to rebuild,

I know one truth deeper than all others:

You were the hands that held me

without needing to be seen.

The invisible grace

that kept my soul from shattering.

For that — and more than I can say —

I carry you in my quiet gratitude,

with every step forward I now take.

I am Gina Mureșan

and this is what it means to be held.