Guidance

You were there when I was born.

That is where my memory of you begins,

even if I cannot recall the moment itself.

I know it because of everything that followed.

You were there when I needed you.

Not sometimes, not occasionally—always.

You showed up in the ordinary days,

in school mornings, in long afternoons,

in moments when I did not even realize

that I was being protected and guided.

You guarded me through all my life.

You did not ask for thanks.

You did not expect recognition.

You simply did what had to be done

so that I could grow,

so that I could become someone stable and capable.

You guided me through sports and school.

You were there when I was a toddler,

and you stayed when I became a teenager.

You handled both versions of me—

the small one who needed everything,

and the older one who thought they needed nothing.

You helped shape me into the adult I am today.

That is a direct result of your presence,

your patience, and your consistency.

You were there when I got married.

You were there when I held my first child.

And you were there again,

watching closely,

as my son took his first steps.

Your role never stopped.

It only changed as life moved forward.

Now you are gone.

This is the truth I have to live with.

There is no way to soften it.

You are no longer here in the way you once were.

And now I understand something clearly:

I am the one who must guide the next generation.

I am the one who must be present,

who must show up,

who must carry forward what you gave me.

For my children.

For my future grandchildren.

This is not a symbolic idea.

It is a responsibility I now hold.

I love you with all my heart.

That has not changed.

That will not change.

And I believe I will see you again,

on the other side