Dad, I still can’t believe you’re gone. My mind whispers the truth, but my heart refuses to accept it. I catch myself looking toward the doorway, waiting for you to appear—standing tall, calling my name, wearing that quiet smile that always made me feel safe. It’s as if some part of me still believes you’ll walk back in, as if love alone could bend time and bring you home.
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Everywhere I look, I find traces of you. In the way I walk, in the sound of my own laugh, in the lessons you carved into me without needing words. You were always teaching me, even in silence—showing me how to be strong, how to endure, how to love without conditions. I thought there would be more time for your wisdom, more moments to gather and hold close. But time slipped away, suddenly and cruelly, and I’m left clutching memories that feel heavier than I know how to carry.
The world lost more than a man when it lost you. I lost my anchor, my steady ground, my compass. You weren’t just my father—you were my shelter, my hero, my guide through the storms of life. And now, in the stillness of your absence, I struggle to breathe in a world that doesn’t have you in it.
But even in the ache, I feel you. In the quiet, I hear your voice reminding me to stand tall. In the shadows, I sense your strength holding me steady. Though I can no longer reach for your hand, I carry you in every heartbeat, every step, every breath.
You may be gone, Dad, but you are not lost. You live in me—always. ❤️
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