A Maze without a guide

When I was seven, my father passed away.
Back then, I was just a kid,
a kid who thought he had simply lost his dad.
I was sad because I knew I would never see him again,
and that was all I understood.

Even though we didn’t share a deep connection,
I loved him more than anything in this world.
And even though my mother spent more time with me before she passed,
I never felt a loss like the one I felt when I lost him.

As time passed and I began to grow,
I realized I didn’t just lose my father that day,
I lost the only man who truly wanted me to be better than him.

Not better in looks, not better in words,
better in life.

If he reached a point and stopped,
he wanted me to go further,
to break through limits he couldn’t.

No man in this world would have wanted me to surpass him
except my father.

With every day that passed without him,
I began to understand the weight of what I had lost.

As I grew older, I saw myself changing,
and sometimes losing myself.
There were moments I became someone I didn’t respect,
someone I didn’t recognize.
And every time I felt that,
I had to pull myself back, alone.

Because no one was there to set me straight,
no one was there to correct me,
to guide me,
to show me how to become a man.

And maybe that’s the hardest path there is,
learning how to be a man
without a father to show you how.

Yes, I had people around me, friends, relatives.
But what I truly needed
was my dad.

And that’s the one wish
I never got.

Dad, if somehow you can see me writing this,
just know I don’t blame you for anything.
Even when I heard things about you,
I never hated you.

I just wanted you here.

I wanted you beside me,
watching me grow,
watching me become something.

I wanted you to see me succeed,
to see me become the man
you hoped I would be.

And until my last breath,
I’ll keep trying
to be that man.

For me,
and for you.