FROM ME TO YOU

I Never Left You        

A Story of Love, Estrangement, and Returning to Wholeness

Preface: From One Soul to Another

Some stories live beneath the surface of what we do. They shape how we hold space, how we listen, and how we walk with others through pain and in their healing.

 This is one of those stories.

It’s shared not to justify or explain, but because truth sometimes asks to be spoken, not loudly, but clearly.

What you’ll read here is personal, but it’s also a kind of medicine, because some stories don’t just belong to us. They live in the collective. Sometimes, the words we’ve buried are the very ones someone else is silently waiting to hear.

This story speaks to something many know too well: the quiet ache of being erased, not for wrongdoing, but for being true.

I offer this for those who’ve been misunderstood for standing in their light, in their integrity. For those whose love was too deep to be received. And for two young souls I carry with me every day.  This is not a story of blame. It’s about remembering who we are in spirit. It’s about a love that never left, even when the doors closed.

 When Families Protect What’s Unspoken

In many families, roles are inherited, handed down silently, shaped by unspoken expectations and unresolved pain.

One child becomes the mirror. The one who sees what others do not see. The one who speaks what others agreed not to name. I became the mirror, not because I wanted conflict, but because I couldn’t unsee what was hurting everyone.

My mother carried wounds she never had the space or support to heal. Rather than facing her pain, it was easier to hand it to me.

So, I was unknowingly assigned a role - the scapegoat, not because I harmed anyone, but because I felt deeply, spoke honestly, and refused to betray what was real.

When Love Is Misread as Disruption

The deepest pain didn’t come from being misunderstood; it came from being cut off from my niece and nephew, two children I loved with my whole heart and soul. Our connection was real, pure, and sacred.

Over time, it became clear that the depth of my bond with my niece and nephew caused discomfort for their mother, and that discomfort ultimately led to the decision to cut off contact. Not because of harm, but because of the closeness I shared with the children and the unconditional love I offered, challenged what felt safe to others.

There was no conversation. There was a confrontation. It came suddenly, loud, hostile, and deeply personal. The children’s mother launched into a torrent of blame and character attacks, demanding I stay away from them. It was a moment of emotional violence I didn’t initiate, yet I became the one removed.

 What hurt most wasn’t just the words, but the silence that surrounded them. My brother and mother stood present as it happened. They didn’t intervene to help bring peace to that moment. Not because they agreed, but because speaking up would’ve threatened their place within the family system.

Their silence wasn’t cruelty, it was self-protection. They both chose to align with the decision out of fear of losing access to the children. Their choice didn’t just echo the silence, but it deepened the pain in my heart. Not out of malice, but because keeping in alignment with the decision made, took precedence over standing in truth. This is what fear does: the need to preserve order for one’s survival over truth.

And so, the door closed. I was erased. Suddenly, I had no family.

I was asked to leave in anger, not for what I had done, but for how deeply I loved.

The Absence That Follows

There was no goodbye. No final hug. No conversation to explain the loss. Just absence. A quiet removal that left its mark not only on my heart but on my nervous system.

Grief doesn’t need a funeral to be real. It shows us in dreams, it lives in birthdays I couldn’t celebrate, photos I’m no longer in, and questions that were never answered.

 I’ve mourned the absence of my family, not just the roles, but the moments, the laughter, the simple presence.

I’ve held my niece and nephew’s names in prayer, and their laughter in memory. I hold my mum and brother in prayer. I keep my sister-in-law in prayer also.

As Jesus said: “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they do.”

 Though the grief is real, so is the choice I’ve made:

To carry it with grace.

To let it shape me, but not harden me.

To honour the love, even when others don’t.

To turn it into something that might one day light the way back, if ever they choose to return.

To My Niece and Nephew

If these words ever reach you, I want you to know the truth. I never left. I never walked away. I was kept apart, not because I stopped loving you, but because the depth of our bond made someone else uncomfortable.

 You may have been told stories. You may have sensed an absence without ever being told why.

 However, the truth is this:

I was not the one who chose to disappear. I was kept away by the one who couldn’t understand and receive the depth of our love. Not because you weren’t cherished, but because our connection made them uncomfortable.

You were never the problem. Our bond was real, sacred, and pure. Sometimes, love that is deep and pure is perceived as disruptive by those who don’t know how to hold it.

 If one day your heart ever wonders where I went or why I disappeared, or remembers something that can’t quite be explained, know this:

 It was never your fault, and my love for you never stopped.

You were never forgotten.

You are still written into my life, with blessing.

Still loving you.

Quietly. Unshakably. Always.

What you couldn’t see

 I kept sending beautiful messages on all your birthdays, at Christmas, Easter, even Mother’s Day, all the moments that mattered. Not once did I get a response. I sent you gifts, too, but they were never shown to you.

Transformation Through the Fire.

 This path has not been easy, but it has been sacred. It called me deeper into the work I now offer.

 Estrangement taught me that healing is not about returning to those who wounded you. It’s about returning to yourself. It’s about returning to your voice, to your clarity, to your wholeness.

Redefining Family, Reclaiming Truth

What once felt like rejection, I now understand as redirection. I was never meant to remain where truth could not be honoured, where love had to wear a mask to stay. Now I choose relationships where love doesn’t need to shrink to survive. And in doing so, I’ve remembered who I am:

Not broken.

Not bitter.

But whole and filled with love.

To Anyone Walking This Path

 If you were cast out for your honesty, for your depth, your questions, or your light…you are not alone.

 If your love was called too much, know that it was a gift.

 If you were asked to leave so others could stay comfortable, know that your truth remains sacred.

You are not the villain. You are the one who chose love, even when it wasn’t understood.

Let the silence transform you.

Let the grief refine you.

Let this detour become the path home to your soul.

A Love That Never Left

This letter may never be read, and that’s okay. Its purpose is not to force reunion, but to leave behind a light, in case the path ever opens again.

To the ones who once lit up my days, you are still written into the rhythm of my life - not with bitterness, but with blessing.

To the one who initiated the separation - you are forgiven, because we are all trying to find our way ‘home.’

To my brother and mother - there is no resentment, only grace.

I release the need to be understood. I let go of what was never mine to carry. I continue, with open arms, a steady heart, and a quiet peace.

May these words find you not as a wound reopened, but as a window.

A light that still shines.

And to the two young souls who mean the world to me, if your heart ever wonders why I vanished, know this:

I never left.

I was removed.

But my love remains, quiet, unwavering, true.

Still loving you.

Always,

Kathryn Avramakis