I didn’t grow up believing in fairy tales—except for the one where I was lucky enough to be born to you.

You gave me strength when I had none.
You gave me love when I believed I was unlovable.
And when the world pointed at me with pity, you looked at me with pride.

You told me I didn’t need to marry, because you saw I was already whole.
You whispered self-worth into my ears before I ever knew what that word meant.
And now, every time I protect myself, it’s because I imagine you—your eyes, your heart—wanting me to live.
To live well.
To live fully.
To live for me… even if I only learned how because I first learned to live for you.

Mama, the truth is—
If I ever do love myself, it’s only because I was loved by you.

I don’t know how to imagine a world without your voice echoing through every corner of my life.
I don’t know how to be me without being your daughter.

But I do know this:
Everything I’ve survived…
Everything I’ve become…
Every soft piece of love left in me…
It’s all because of you.

You are the thread that holds my patchwork heart together.
And when you’re gone—and please, not soon—I will gather every memory, every smile, every sacrifice you ever made, and wear it like armor.

I’ll keep going. For you. Because of you.
Because I was never just your child.
I am your legacy.
And loving you will always be the bravest, most beautiful thing I’ve ever done.