Namur, Friday, January 17, 2025. Around 5 p.m.?

Hello Zia,

An ordinary Friday in a cold January. I just cried, and that hasn't happened to me for a while now. Usually, these days, I can manage this overflow of emotions. But today, at this precise moment, I just broke down, without really knowing why. Well, yes, maybe a little. This morning, I was looking for my ID card, and to make sure it wasn't lying around somewhere in the apartment, I started tidying, sorting, throwing away... And then, of course, I came across souvenirs, writings, photos, little attentions, drawings... It hurts, Zia. But at the same time, it feels good to remember that we've experienced beautiful things together... Will other moments come one day?

Just an ordinary Friday, then. But maybe right now you're home, or coming back from wherever you study, wherever you live... alone, with your boyfriend, or a friend... I don't know. And maybe it doesn't matter, I don't know.

I often question myself. I wonder about the good and the bad I may have done to you, about the unfailing love I feel for you, and I feel guilty too. I turn it all over, and today, after all these years of being cast aside, I wonder if, one day, you, my child, will truly have the desire to reconnect with your father. I try to cling to this hope, but it hurts so much. Waiting without knowing... without having an answer... without my outstretched hands finding yours, is like making me suffer a little more. Did I deserve it so much? Really? I also hope that, despite your life as a fulfilled and fulfilled young woman, you sometimes think of me, and that, like me, you take a step back and reflect on us, carefully measuring the repercussions of your position. Don't think I'm looking for someone to blame in our relationship today. There are two of us. Yes, two: you, a young adult who has taken a stand, perhaps with too little perspective, and only one side of the story, perhaps you fear that once again, if you approach the hope of finding your father, you will be disappointed again? I can't tell you what will happen; I see today that the years are passing, and that we will never be able to go back. But I want to know my daughter, to approach you and tell you how much I love you.

For this to be possible, we must take a step towards each other. I am trying; you, if you feel the need, should do the same. Otherwise, this waiting, this hope, and this rejection risk continuing, without reason today.

What can I say about the pain and sadness Opa and Oma must be feeling? Even if we never speak of them again, they are old, and before being your loving grandparents, they are my parents. I must protect them.

I love you.

Dad.