The Love We Left Behind

I’ve been telling Kenzo “I love you” every morning - a ritual that started long ago, when Vic was still alive and well. Back then, it was just a gentle reminder. Now, it’s something I cling to. A thread between the past and the present. A habit wrapped in meaning.

I’ve told Kenzo many times, “No matter how upset we are with each other, we should always say ‘I love you.’ So we never live with regrets.”
He always nods. Quietly. As if he understands just how much weight those words carry now.

This morning, I hugged him like always and whispered, “I love you.”

He looked up at me and said,

“I think you love Dad more than me, even though you used to argue all the time.”

My heart stopped.

I crouched to his level, trying not to let the sudden ache show.

“What makes you say that, baby?” I asked softly. “We both love you very much.”

Then, after a pause, I added with a smile,

“But I think Daddy loves you more - after all, he left everything to you.”

And Kenzo… he wrapped his arms around me so tightly. As if he didn’t want to let go.
As if, in that moment, we both needed to be reminded - love isn’t a competition. It’s a legacy.

One that Vic left in full.
And one I’ll carry forward - every single day.

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