From all of us at Closer to the Edge, we’re writing with hearts wide open. Your words—“We are strongest in the broken places”—struck a chord that’s still reverberating.
We know that line well. We’ve lived it, too. Some of us have stood in oncology wards with fists clenched and voices trembling. Some of us have buried parents, siblings, lovers—taken too soon by a disease that shows no mercy. And some of us are still fighting, walking daily with the shadow of a diagnosis that tries to rewrite who we are.
But your post wasn’t just about pain. It was about resilience. About love, and the power of being held by someone who knows your soul. The photo of you and Jill—unadorned, quiet, human—said more than any speech ever could.
You reminded us that even in times of political noise and chaos, some truths remain unshaken: that grief can bind us, that strength is forged in fire, and that love is louder than despair.
We want you to know that we see you—not just as a public figure, but as a father who lost a son, a partner leaning into the support of his wife, and a man facing down the terror of a diagnosis with grace and grit. And in this moment, you are not alone.
We’re with you. Our readers are with you. Millions of Americans—of every background, belief, and political leaning—are with you. Cancer is an enemy that doesn’t care what party you belong to. But neither does love. Neither does compassion. Neither does hope.
If ever you need reminding of what you mean to this country—not the office you held, but the man you are—just look to those who are lifting you up right now. We’re here. We’re not going anywhere.
With deep respect,
Closer to the Edge
This post has been syndicated from Closer to the Edge, where it was published under this address.