Today is a day to remember the saints. I want to remember those women who aren't in any saints book. Those who from the outside may appear weak, but are the strongest women I know. For all the women who have died at the hands of their intimate partner, we remember you. We remember how we may have had hints, glimpses of your abuse through your words and his actions. Maybe we were friends and you couldn't buy that top on sale because you didn't have any money or had to check with him first. Or maybe he kept calling to ask what you were doing, who you were with, and eventually destroyed the friendship by painting the friend as someone who was sabotaging your relationship. Or maybe you told us how he gets angry, loses his temper and we didn't hear deeper that he was threatening you, hitting you, and taking away your friends. It slips into our lives so easily, we love these men because they are charming and then slowly it all changes. When it changes we know the only safe place is there with him in order to gauge when we might be in for it, because when we leave we are torn from that mooring of knowing. You are saints because you had to endure alone all your scars and we remember and maybe we might be a better friend the next time.