If I had known that hug would be the last, I would never have let go
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Dad, if I had known that hug would be the last, I would have never let go. I would have held on tighter — long enough to feel your heartbeat, long enough to breathe in the warmth of your presence, long enough to remember every detail of that moment forever. I would have whispered everything I never said, told you how much I loved you, how much you meant to me, how deeply your love shaped my life. But life doesn’t give warnings — it just takes, leaving behind a silence that echoes louder than words ever could.
I remember the strength of your arms, the way they made me feel safe, no matter how old I was. That final hug was soft, fragile even, yet it carried all the love you’d ever given me. If I’d known it was goodbye, I would have begged time to stop — just for a moment — so I could memorize everything: the warmth of your skin, the scent of your shirt, the quiet comfort of your embrace.
Now, I replay that memory over and over in my mind. Sometimes it feels like it happened just yesterday; other times, it feels like a dream slipping away. I wish I could go back — not to change anything, but simply to be with you again, even for a second. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye, Dad. The truth is, I never will be.
Your absence has become a part of me — a wound that never closes, an ache that lives beneath every heartbeat. I still find myself talking to you in the quiet moments, still hoping you can hear me somehow. I see traces of you everywhere: in the way the sunlight hits the window, in the smell of coffee in the morning, in every small act of kindness you taught me to give.
If love could build a bridge, I’d cross it every day just to hold you again. Until then, I’ll keep carrying you in my heart, holding tight to the memory of that last hug — the one that said everything words never could.
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