Losing my daughter’s father taught me that life is fragile.
One day we were on the phone, and he said, “I’ll be discharged on Friday.” By Friday evening, he was gone.
When I told my daughter, she broke down. She was only eight. Watching her cry was harder than crying myself. But I was grateful that she never saw the bad side of our relationship. To her, her dad was a hero — and that’s the image I wanted her to keep.
Sometimes protecting a child’s memory is the greatest act of love. You don’t have to speak evil of the dead. Let your child hold on to the good.
Peace doesn’t come from revenge. It comes from letting go.
— Bisola Aiyeola
