Papa

A Father's Silent Sacrifices: My Inspiration and Guiding Light

I love my father. Many people say that, but for me, he is not just a father—he is my inspiration, my guiding light, and my greatest source of motivation. He has this incredible ability to stay positive, no matter the situation. Whenever I feel low, he's the one who lifts me up, always calm, always composed, and never speaking negatively.

One day, I had a difficult experience with my in-laws. They said hurtful things about my parents, and naturally, the first person I wanted to turn to was my father. I didn't share it with my mom but confided in him. His response was simple yet profound: "It's okay. When people are angry, they sometimes say things they don't mean. But you don't need to respond in the same way." I was upset and couldn't understand how I could stay silent when someone spoke against my family. I didn't talk to him for a while, but then he gently explained, "They don't know us well, and they don't know you well either. No one can truly understand the struggles we've been through. Do you really need validation from them? Let them keep their thoughts. You've achieved what you wanted, now focus on controlling your anger."

It's been a month since that incident, and even now, I cry sometimes, thinking about those harsh words. It's hard to let them go. But my father is different. He's been through so much yet remains so calm. He never got the chance to pursue higher education because his father—my grandfather—left the family when my father was just five years old. Out of five brothers and one sister, my father was the middle child, and he grew up in difficult circumstances, struggling financially.

When my parents got married, my mom was passionate about her studies. After completing her BA, my father supported her in pursuing her BTC degree for government teaching. She passed, but her job required her to move to a different city for two years. My brother and I were born during that time, and my father would visit her every three months. Communication was difficult back then, and they relied on letters to stay in touch. It sounds romantic, but whenever I try to read those letters, I cry. My mom doesn't let us read them—those are their private emotions.

Once, while traveling to see my mom, my father had an accident and broke his leg. My aunt and grandmother refused to care for my brother and me, so my father took us to live with my mom. Despite all this, my father worked tirelessly as a seasonal worker in a sugar factory and as an electrician, sometimes working 18-20 hours just to save for our school fees. After two years, my mom returned home and became a government teacher.

My father was always deeply involved in our education. No matter how exhausted he was, he would wake up early to ask us about our studies, checking our answer sheets, and pushing us to do better. "Why fewer marks in this subject?" he'd ask, playing the role of both parent and teacher......to be continued