1988

My dear Hien,

I’ve done as you’ve asked all these years. I’ve never reached out to you no matter how much it hurts. The only thing that gives me comfort is that I know Mom and Dad and the boys are a presence in your life. I’ve never blamed our parents for cutting off contact with me to better embrace Silence so they can assist our brothers with the transition and support you in your journey with Neiza. I hope you know that, that you understand your big brother wants only the best for you and your child.

But to stop talking to you altogether? I couldn’t do that. So I kept this journal, and I wrote all these letters that’ll never be sent. My Mimi, she says that one day, our descendants will meet again, and that these letters will act as an archive of memories that’ll bring them together. She has so much hope in her, my mate, and her courage and heart buoy mine.

Today, I write because I have news to share with you.

I have a daughter, Hien. She’s so tiny and so astonishing and I cried when I first held her. We’ve named her Quyen Eugenia Nguyen. Such a grand name for a wee thing, but she’ll grow into her name, our precious Quyen.

She looks a little like you. I wish you could see her, wish you could hold her, too. I know you would have been an adoring aunt, and that you’d have teased me for taking my time to have a cub. Mimi and I thought it would never happen, and we were content to love the children of the clan. Now we’re half in shock and stunned in delight.

My mate has never begrudged me my love for you all. She is generous of heart, is my bear, has unbreakable bonds of her own with her siblings. To her, it’s nothing extraordinary that a brother should care for his siblings. But her bonds make her smile, give her joy, while mine causes me only sorrow. And I won’t have my child growing up in the shadow of my pain.

So today, my favorite little sister, I must let go of the last pieces of you.

I can’t hold on to Otto, Grady, Mom, and Dad, either, no matter the pain of letting go. For the small and cheeky brothers who have become young men far from my eyes and about whom I know only fragments, I wish a life devoid of hurt and trauma, but filled with all the good things that exist. For our parents so loving and giving, I wish the serenity of knowing they made the only choice they could.

You, my brilliant, funny little sister, will live always in my heart and in my memories, but it’s time for me to release the past and live in the joyful, vibrant present with my mate and my child. No more looking backward to what once was, and no more secret hopes for a future unseen.

As I complete this, my final letter to you, I wish you and Neiza every good thing life has to offer, and that Silence gives you the peace you desire.

Your big brother,

D.