A Father's Letter to His Daughter: Thankful and Sharing A Marriage Life Experience

 Dearest Daughter,

Reading your letter brings me great comfort. It shows me that you have already developed a deep understanding of intimate relationships, and I have no doubt that you are capable of building a beautiful one of your own. Since you’re willing to hear my thoughts, I’d like to share a few words.

The central theme of your letter is how to navigate the beginnings and endings of relationships. From my experience, relationships often end for the same reasons they began. There’s an old saying: "People come together because of misunderstandings and part ways because of understanding." This perfectly captures the life cycle of many relationships.

Especially in romantic relationships, the beginning is often filled with various needs, projections, and fantasies—some conscious and acknowledged, others unconscious and unspoken. We deceive ourselves first, then each other, and we fully enjoy this deception. One of love’s greatest appeals is its illusion of salvation.

The saying "love is blind" is only half true. Blindness is real, but it is also intentional. The truth is, the game of love isn’t fun unless there’s a certain degree of blindness. This phase—the first stage of a relationship—is defined by romance. Romance means ignoring reality, idealizing ourselves and our partners, and creating an experience as enchanting as possible.

However, when these feelings are no longer enough to mask reality, the relationship moves into the second stage: power. In simple terms, this is when conflicts arise—when perspectives differ, who should give in? Who should apologize? Who has the final say? Both partners project their deepest insecurities onto each other and try to mold the other to fit their needs. The result is usually conflict or silent endurance, with one or the other taking turns.

If a couple is fortunate enough to make it past this stage without breaking up or becoming resentful, they enter the third stage: integration. Here, conflicts still arise, but the couple does not avoid them. Instead, they remain open, curious, and accepting of each other’s differences. They give each other space and grow together. In a way, this marks the true beginning of an intimate relationship—moving beyond romance and power struggles.

Only after passing through these three stages does a relationship reach the stage of commitment. At this point, commitment is based on genuine understanding, heartfelt sincerity, and the ability to follow through. Finally, the relationship enters the most rewarding phase: co-creation. At this stage, the couple becomes greater than the sum of their parts. No matter what they do, their combined energy elevates everything around them. They become true soulmates.

This is the full life cycle of a relationship, but in reality, most relationships don’t complete it. Many end at the tail end of romance, when passion fades, and the partners move on to chase another romantic high—switching partners but playing the same game, never truly confronting themselves or experiencing growth.

More often, relationships fall apart in the power stage. Many people lack the maturity to handle conflicts and part ways. Others stay together out of practical concerns but lack the courage to leave or the ability to change, leading to a lifetime of silent resentment. These relationships are like failed exams in the school of love.

Ironically, true commitment should only be made in the fourth stage. Yet, many people commit—marry, and even have children—before reaching that level of understanding. This is why the saying "making promises lightly leads to broken trust" holds so much truth.

My first two marriages are prime examples of this. Before meeting your mother, I was married to Aunt Wu for nearly five years. We were college classmates, both working in journalism, and for years, we were seen as the perfect couple—golden lovers in our field. We were together for seven years before marrying, a total of eleven years as partners. When we divorced, it shocked everyone—including ourselves.

Looking back, the reason was simple: we both believed that marriage had to be built on love, and love should never be compromised. If we could no longer love each other the way we once did, we felt we should part ways.

Do you think your father was too naïve? You’re absolutely right. I grew up in an era that romanticized love. I believed that if my partner was no longer happy with me, I should let her go find her happiness elsewhere. We were, as the saying goes, "writing poetry for the sake of sorrow." Our idealistic views on love were the only reason for our separation.

Because of this, Aunt Wu and I have remained like family. You might remember how, when you were studying in England, she and her husband drove me across the states to visit you. She even invited you to stay at their home in London. She and your sister’s mother are close friends; they’ve spent Mother’s Day and New Year’s Eve together. I even took you to one of her three-day workshops. In many ways, it was through her and her husband’s influence that I began my journey of inner exploration.

One of my deepest memories of Aunt Wu came years after our divorce when I was asked in a personal growth workshop: "If you were standing on the edge of a cliff on a dark night, one step away from falling, who would you want to hold your hand?" Without hesitation, her image appeared in my mind—even though we hadn’t spoken in years and lived on opposite sides of the world. The trust between us ran so deep, it startled even me.

This is why I believe relationships don’t truly end—they only change in form. Like water transforming into ice or vapor, the essence remains the same. A true understanding of relationships allows us to see that once a deep bond has formed, former partners will never become strangers; they simply take on new roles in our lives.

With this understanding, I developed a simple test: whenever I think of someone from my past, if I can’t smile, my inner work isn’t done. If there’s something left unsaid or undone, I try to make peace with it. And if nothing more can be done, I simply acknowledge, appreciate, and bless that person in my heart—until I can smile.

As for your mother and me, we separated because we couldn’t navigate the power stage. Even after we parted, lingering resentment cast a shadow over our interactions, affecting your childhood. Thankfully, over the years, through shared experiences and learning, we were able to heal. A turning point came a few years ago when we gathered to reflect on our past, laughing until we collapsed. You once told me it was one of your life’s most precious memories—it was for me too. From that moment on, I could think of your mother without any burden in my heart. Our unfinished lesson was finally complete.

Now, I am deeply grateful that we can be grandparents together, loving our granddaughter as one family. Seeing our families unite for festive meals, allowing her to witness the true resolution of relationships, fills me with joy.

And I have faith that the lessons your mother and I failed to learn in our youth will not be passed down. Through your understanding and growth, the cycle ends with you.

With love,
Dad

Love and relationships evolve, but true connections never fade. How do you see the cycles in your own life? Reflect, reconnect, and explore more.

RelationshipWisdom#Love and Growth#Emotional Healing#Life Lessons#TrueConnections