My Father

When I think of the building blocks that shaped the person I am today, I must begin with the family into which I was born. I have already written about about my mother, without whom none of my story would exist. Standing beside her, equally influential in my earliest years, was my father.

My father was not the cuddling or snuggling type. Affection, in the traditional sense, was not his language. Instead, he expresses himself through expectations, structure and the standards he set for our home. We were raised to be seen, not heard, and to make sure chores were finished before play. These habits, instilled so early in my childhood, have followed me throughout my life and served me in more ways that I can measure.

There was a rhythm and routine in our household, and my father’s presence set the tone. He shaped our days, our responsibilities, and ultimately the discipline that carried me into adulthood. Looking back, I can see how those early patterns became the foundation of who I am: hardworking and deeply committed to the responsibilities placed before me.