Sometimes, life comes down to the things left unsaid; the choices we once couldn’t make or the words we were too afraid to say. I’ve thought about this deeply, especially with the echoes of my last relationship, where love became something shared with my daughter too. Watching them together stirred something new in me, something that felt both tender and weighted, knowing how close we all were and the emotions that had layered over time.
In love and life, I’ve realized, timing is as much an enemy as it is a friend. There are relationships you hold in your heart long after they’re gone, because in some way, they’re stitched into who you are. Letting go, I learned, doesn’t mean forgetting. It means honoring what it gave you, allowing yourself to grow around the loss and the memories alike. And part of that growth, for me, has been opening up to my daughter, showing her the sides of love that endure; friendship, loyalty, and the courage to embrace life’s impermanence without resentment.
There’s a quiet strength in moving forward, I think, but it also means having the patience to live with what’s unresolved. Sometimes, the most meaningful connections leave us with loose ends. In those gaps between what we once shared and what remains, I try to find peace; not just for myself, but for the kind of man, father, and friend I want to be. And that, I’ve learned, might be the truest mark of love.
—
In the meadows of my daughter’s laughter,
she found a friend, a mentor, a guide;
a woman who spoke to the world as if every leaf and feather
carried a secret worth holding close.
I’d watch them both, fingers intertwined,
two souls bound in wonder,
eyes wide with the shared love of nature’s beauty.
They made gifts from paper and glue,
sketched treasures and braided wishes into chest full of memories,
as if they, together, could grow a world all their own.
She became more than love,
more than a hand to hold beside mine;
she was someone I’d have proudly called partner;
shoulder to shoulder, raising my daughter with honor.
But that world we dreamt, its warmth and wild simplicity,
is gone now, fading like the sunset that lit their sky.
I look at my daughter, and see traces of her curiosity,
the way they shared secrets I will miss greatly.
It is the saddest truth I carry;
to love what’s gone, and to walk forward in its dissolve.
Yet, for the bond they wove so carefully, so tenderly,
I am forever grateful, and forever grieving.
— Sincerely, Boris
