When my dad told us he was leaving my mom after 26 years of marriage, I was stunned. “I’ve met someone,” he said, calling them his soulmate. But he wouldn’t say who. He moved out, stayed quiet, and refused to share any details. I assumed it was an affair—until I saw him months later at a coffee shop. He was with someone familiar: his old friend Robert. Their interaction wasn’t romantic—it was deeper,
more intimate in a quiet way. And that’s when it clicked. I asked him directly, “So… you left Mom for Robert?” “No,” he said. “I left because I wasn’t happy. I needed to figure out who I really am.” Robert wasn’t a lover—he was the first person my dad confided in. His true “soulmate,” he finally admitted, was himself. He hadn’t left for someone else. He left to stop pretending. It took time, but eventually I understood. My mom built a new life, and my dad found peace being true to himself. Before he passed,
he told me, “If you ever find yourself living a life that isn’t yours, I hope you have the courage to walk away.” Sometimes, the hardest love is the one we give ourselves.