A Father’s Legacy, A Child’s Wish
Ten years after my father’s passing, grief had settled into a quiet routine, interwoven with daily tasks like packing lunches and helping with homework. On Father’s Day, my seven-year-old innocently declared, “If I had a time machine, I’d tell Steve not to kill himself. He wouldn’t have died if he knew we’d exist.” “Of course not,” I reassured him, offering a gentle fabrication. We speak openly about Dad’s suicide, free from shame, yet the intricate truth remains too complex to share. “You said he wanted us to call him Abuelo,” my son continued. “Abuelo Steve, I wish I could have met you.” — Ali Moss
Love Across Continents
When it’s 11:30 p.m. in Minnesota, it’s already 11:30 a.m. the next day in Vietnam, where my boyfriend, Nghia, enjoys a break at the Iris Hotel – a name evocative of hope and vibrant color. I text him, asking about his cravings, with my delivery app ready to go. He desires guava juice and noodles with roasted pork belly. From eight thousand miles away, I arrange his lunch. I know this gesture can’t replicate a hug, but my heart echoes Ecclesiastes: “a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing.” — John Ngoc Nguyen
Embracing Your Full Self
After I won Ms. Canada United World, my partner urged me to “tone it down” and delete social media posts celebrating my achievements. Believing love required compromise, I started dimming my light: fewer celebrations, less pride in my two businesses, my doctorate, my TEDx talk, my writing, and my teaching; my ambitions softened. He still left. For too long, I blamed myself, thinking I was “too much.” I eventually understood the truth: we are never meant to be less. Love that demands you shrink yourself isn’t love at all. — Shara Ally
The Healing Power of Touch
My hands, which had caressed many lovers, finally found solace in the gentle clasp of the woman I cherish. These same hands nurtured our newborn children and offered comfort to my mother on her final day. I am profoundly grateful that my hands serve as instruments to caress and support those I love, reminding me that I, too, deserve to be held and sustained. Though my hands may occasionally falter, they remain my steadfast connection to others and to myself, gracefully guiding me through the journey of aging. — Robin Rosenbluth