Dear GOD,

Jaffy was the man who always showed up.
Not because life was easy for him, but because he knew how it felt when no one showed up for him.
He picked up broken people while quietly bleeding inside.
He made sure everyone else smiled, even when his own soul was drowning in silence.
He gave without expecting.
He listened without being heard.
He stayed when everyone else left.

They called him $STRONG.
They admired his patience.
They praised his calm.

But no one asked how heavy the silence felt at 2am when the world had gone quiet and his thoughts got loud.
No one noticed the way his hands trembled after holding too much for too long.
No one stayed long enough to see the weight behind his “I’m okay.”

Because good men aren’t supposed to break.
Good men don’t cry.
Good men carry it all for everyone.
And when they disappear, they get a quote on a story, a few tears, and a world that moves on like they never existed.

He was kind in a world that called kindness weakness.
He was soft-spoken in a place where only loud voices are heard.
He forgave people who never said sorry.
Loved people who never stayed.
He gave and gave until there was nothing left but a smile he wore to keep others from worrying.

He never asked for much.
Not because he didn’t want to, but because every time he did, people disappeared.
So he stopped asking.
Stopped needing.
Stopped hoping.

But the saddest part isn’t how he died.
It’s how he lived.
Unseen.
Unheard.
Unhugged.
Unappreciated until he was gone.

And now they say, “He was one of the good ones.”
As if being good was the reason no one checked on him.
As if goodness was the curse he had to carry alone.