For Chloe, my Ate Lottie — and for your younger sister, Jashel Kaye
Lottie,
My Ate Lottie.
There are words I have carried in my heart for a long time. Some days, they feel heavy. Some days, they feel quiet. But they are always there.
And today, I want to write them — not as a perfect man, but simply as your father.
As Papa Lenslo.
The man who has loved you from the beginning. The man who has missed you through the silence. The man who never wanted distance to become part of our story.
Lottie, there may come a time when you ask questions about me. Why was I not there the way a father should be? Why did certain moments pass without me beside you?
And if those questions ever come, I want you to know this first:
I never stopped loving you. I never stopped thinking about you. I never stopped being your father.
Distance may have changed what I was allowed to do, but it never changed who I am to you.
I am your Papa. And you are my daughter.
That truth has never left me.
Lottie, I know absence can feel like abandonment when no one explains it clearly. A child should never have to wonder why one parent is far away.
You were wanted. You were loved. You were missed. You were never forgotten.
I wanted to hear your stories.
I wanted to know what made you laugh. I wanted to know when you were scared, when you were proud, when you needed advice, when you needed comfort.
Because Father and Daughter is not just a title. It is a bond. It is present. It is guidance. It is protection.
I have imagined so many things.
Hope that one day, when your heart is ready, you will search for the full truth.
Hope that one day, you will understand that love can survive even through separation.
What it would have been like
to watch you grow.
What it would have been like
to hear you call me Papa.
What it would have been like
to see you with Jashel.
What it would have been like for us
to share life together.
And now, there is also your younger sister, Jashel.
Your Jashel Kaye. I think about both of you — Chloe and Jashel — and my heart feels both love and pain.
Love, because you are my daughters. Pain, because a father’s heart is not made to love from far away.
A father is meant to be present. To hold hands. To answer questions. To teach lessons. To wipe tears. To celebrate small victories.
Lottie, as the ate, I know you carry a special place in Jashel’s life.
You are not only Chloe. You are Ate Lottie.
You are someone your younger sister may look up to, learn from, and love in ways only sisters understand.
My love for you and Jashel is not something distance can destroy. It lives in me every day.
But life is rarely simple.
Sometimes
Children are left to carry the pain of decisions they never made.
That is what hurts me most.
Not just what I lost. But what you may have lost too. The memories we should have made. The conversations we should have had.
The ordinary father-and-daughter moments that should have belonged to us.
I wanted to be there when you needed strength. I wanted to be there when you needed direction. I wanted to remind you that you are enough, loved, and never alone.
Lottie, I am not writing this to make you angry at anyone.
I am not writing this to ask you to choose sides. I am writing this because one day, you deserve the truth.
Ate Lottie, my Chloe, I want you to remember this.
You are not a forgotten daughter. You are not an abandoned child. You are not a missing chapter in my life. You are part of me. And so is Jashel.
My love for you both has remained through every quiet year, every unanswered question, and every painful distance.
I may not be able to change the past. But I can tell you the truth of my heart.
My love for you both has remained through every quiet year.
Papa Lenslo never stopped hoping that one day we would find our way back to something honest and peaceful.
Lottie, no matter how much time passes, I will always be your father. And you will always be my daughter.
And together with Jashel Kaye, you will always be part of the love I carry.
Still here.
Still loving you.
Still hoping.
— Papa Lenslo