Celebrations are beautiful. No matter the reason. Let’s celebrate.
But the most beautiful part of celebrating something is sharing it. Especially with your family. To have a mother and a father you could share that celebration with, and yet to have only your mother beside you… that must be so hard. Especially knowing that your father is celebrating in another home, with other children.
I know, my dear, you can’t bring yourself to believe it. You want to believe that in your father’s eyes, you are still the most precious one. I understand that. Pretending not to see it, acting as if you don’t care, feels better… but only for a moment. At night, when you lie down in bed, that urge to cry spills out of you.
On those nights when you say, “I feel like crying, but I don’t know why,” arrows pierce my heart. Your innocent, well-intentioned, incredibly precious little heart cannot understand the reason but I do, my sweet one. Having to struggle with this feeling of worthlessness at such a young age is a deep injustice to you.
You see the difference between the value I try to show you and the value you don’t receive from your other parent. You can’t make sense of it, and that makes you feel bad. I understand you so well. When you feel that lump inside you —heavy, pressing, but somehow never turning into tears— if only you knew how much my own heart aches.
My dear son.
I wish that in the new year, you come to understand the reason behind those urges to cry, and that one day you will hold accountable those who made you feel this way.
Selcan
01.01.2026
