Soul Legacy Letter

Somewhere between countries, careers, and carefully held plans, I started waking up.

Not in the loud way. Not with fireworks or declarations. But with a quiet breath, a turning inward. A whisper that said: You’re not here just to survive.

I used to dream of becoming an artist — someone who lived through colour and story. But what I crave now is clarity. Presence. Influence. I want to lead. I want to sit at the table where decisions are made and bring light into places that forgot how to listen. I want to use my intelligence out loud.

When I picture my daughter grown, I hope she remembers more than how I worked. I hope she remembers how I showed up. How I made her laugh. How we chased tulips and crossed borders and sang in the car. I hope she tells her children that their grandma always had cake, and the right words at the right time. That she was strong, but never unreachable. That she made a home out of love, not things.

I come alive in rooms where ideas flow, where people lean in. I shine when I speak what’s true — not rehearsed, not perfect — just honest. I come alive when there’s laughter in the air and the feeling that we’re in it together. That’s where my fire lives.

There was a time I forgot all of this. I called silence peace. I called self-abandonment loyalty. I stayed too long in places that dimmed me. I waited for someone to hand me permission to become myself.

No more.

Now, when I strip away every role — mother, partner, worker, daughter — what’s left is light. Not blinding. Steady. I am the woman who makes a room feel warmer. Who speaks in many languages but always from the same heart. Who dances when the music is good and doesn’t apologise for joy.

This is the legacy I want to leave: A daughter who knows she is safe. A voice that never forgets its volume. A presence that can hold both depth and delight.

And a life — not perfect, but fully mine.

With Love.

Stef