My Dad

I know a man who watched me grow into the person I was becoming, quietly shaping my steps without ever demanding recognition or praise, never grieving over what he had to sacrifice for my becoming, just steady, like a silent foundation beneath my life. I know a man who carried love for me in places I could not yet see, never spoke it aloud, but it lived in everything he quietly did, to me he seemed unshaken, almost invincible, like a childhood hero, a “superman” in my eyes, strong enough to hide his own heart. He was not always present in the way I wished or understood, often occupied with burdens I was too young to comprehend, leaving before my eyes opened and returning only after I slept, loving in ways I mistook for absence, not knowing it was care. But just yesterday, I began to understand the depth of who he is, how much love was hidden inside the silence I once misunderstood, and now I see him clearlynot just as he was, but as he has always been, a quietly remarkable man I am only now learning to appreciate.