In our family group chat, my brother shared a photo of a handwritten poem by his daughter Ivanka. He said she called it a work of art, and I immediately asked if I could publish what she had written. I gave it the title “Firefly in the Sky.”
I’ve always been captivated by the creative ability of human beings to express the deepest thoughts and feelings of the mind and heart. That poem took me back in time. It brought vivid memories of her first year of life. Her eyes were still closed, and she slept most of the time. I visited her whenever I could. I would lay her on my chest, talk to her, and let her feel my breath.
During her first year, Ivanka lived with her maternal grandparents. After Yuriko’s passing (cancer), Josué decided to take custody of his daughter. The response he received was: “We believed you’d have the greatness to give up your daughter in exchange for the one we’ve lost.”
After being served with a lawsuit for child support, Josué filed a legal claim demanding custody of his daughter, who was being kept from him unlawfully. Around 400 people published and shared the campaign “Ivanka con su padre” online, protesting the injustice: the denial of custody, bribery, needless delays, and the unlawful, malicious behavior of the maternal grandparents who denied Josué countless opportunities to see his daughter throughout the legal process.
I don’t think I’ll ever fully understand the pain those three years of waiting caused my brother. But knowing—and seeing—that my niece can now express herself freely and knowingly means he’s doing a good job as a father.
This is what Ivanka wrote in memory of her mother:
Beautiful firefly, like an angel in the sky, Watching all night, you seem so anxious. Your departure feels like a dream, A quiet ache, felt every day of every year.
Strong but fragile, the wait is long. Tiny memories of your walk, Unaware of your next visit. I wish I could have touched hair like yours.
Tick, tock! The clock keeps moving. Each day hurts more than the one before. Drop by drop, the empty memories fade. Delicious food, every day waiting for you, Now clear: you went on a journey, and won’t return.
Terrified, because if I go, your painful memory would return. Beautiful angel, who had to go back to the sky. Looking up, hoping to see your face. Every night I think: I miss you, Mother.”
In Romania, I got my first tattoo on my chest—it says “Ivanka con su padre.” I showed it to my brother six years later.
I remember Yuriko with deep affection. A smart, beautiful, fashion-forward, and strong woman.
Ave Migratoria 