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It’s past midnight, and once again, I find myself crying over Bobet. To be honest, I don’t even know how to explain it. I never met him. He didn’t know who I was, and I was never part of his life in any way. Yet for the past few days, I’ve been carrying this heaviness in my heart that I can’t seem to shake. Part of me keeps asking why I’m taking this so hard. Why does his death affect me this much when we were complete strangers? Maybe it’s because the more I learn about him, the more heartbreaking it becomes. Every story people share about him paints the same picture: he was kind, thoughtful, and deeply loved. He wasn’t asking for much from life. He simply wanted a chance to build a better future for himself and the people he cared about. And that’s what hurts. It’s the thought of everything that could have been. The dreams he hadn’t reached yet. The life he was still supposed to live. The memories he was still supposed to make. He was so young, and he had so much ahead of him. It feels like his story was cut short long before it was meant to end. I think that’s why I can’t stop grieving him. It’s not just the loss of his life that breaks my heart, but the future he never got the chance to have. The only comfort I can find is believing that God welcomed him home and that he’s now in a place far kinder than this world can sometimes be. I know it probably sounds strange to grieve this deeply for someone I’ve never met. But grief doesn’t always make sense. Sometimes a person touches your heart through their story alone. The closest way I can describe it is this: it feels like mourning a younger brother I never had the chance to meet. Rest easy, Bobet. You were gone far too soon, but you will be remembered by far more people than you ever knew. 🤍