An Outsider in Their Eyes, But Not in Yours

Dear Vic,

You’ve been on my mind all day - memories surfacing in no particular order. I still can’t fully believe you’re gone. It feels like only yesterday we were disagreeing over some small thing about Kenzo, and now… you’re just not here anymore.

I’ve never lost someone so close before. You’re the first, and I’m still learning how to navigate life without you - for both me and Kenzo.

When I asked your sister for photos of you and Kenzo to keep, and for help unblocking me from your Facebook so I could see your last posts, her response felt like a wall:

"I understand these things are important to you. We’ll make sure they’re addressed in time. Right now, it would mean a lot if family and friends could have some space to grieve. We can talk about the Facebook account, SIM card, and photos when we’re ready."

It left me wondering - did she mean my grief is somehow less valid than theirs? Were the twenty years we shared not enough? Regardless, we’ll grieve you in our own way, without waiting for permission.

When we were in Vietnam earlier this year and she invited us to see her baby, you told me, “I don’t understand why you’d want to visit your ex’s family on your holiday.” Maybe you were right. I went thinking it would be good for Kenzo to meet his cousin - maybe I was being too nice again. I’ll remember your words now: I won’t go out of my way for people who don’t deserve my time. Kenzo misses you. He doesn’t miss them. Aside from his grandparents, any other connection will depend on how they treat him and what they bring into his life.

In their eyes, I’ve always been an outsider. Now, even more so. And that’s fine. I learned to stand on my own during our separation, and I’ll keep doing it - raising Kenzo to be respectful, capable, and kind. Just like you, the person I met 26 years ago at the VISWA gathering.

Whatever walls they put up, I’ll keep my own heart open for the people and moments that matter. Kenzo and I will carry your memory in ways that feel right to us - quietly, deeply, and without needing anyone’s permission. In the end, love doesn’t need an audience to be real. It simply lives on.

— N

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