This is such a moving tribute, Odel. What touched me most was that you did not portray your father as perfect to honor him. You allowed love, discipline, distance, hurt, and gratitude to stand together. That makes the tribute feel deeply human.
“Anger should not take away gratitude” is a lesson that will stay with me. So will the realization that your father gave you the opportunity to gain the knowledge he never had. That may be one of the most meaningful inheritances a parent can leave.
The ending is beautiful. “Your rebellious son” carries affection, history, and acceptance all at once. Your father clearly lives not only in your memories but also in the wisdom you carry into the world.
You resume this very well. The idea was never idealize my family, but to see them as they are, the way we can see ourselves in the mirror. We see the good and the bad. Because our families leave a lot in us, and sometimes taking time to unpack them can help us see what we want to leave in those who are coming after us.
This was a great lesson. When we are angry, we might undervalue what others do good for us. We might destroy them even if we need them. In a big scale, it's like when people in a country is manifesting and they destroy all the good things that have been built for them. This is one of the lesson I had big difficulty to manage back then, because it asks me to know how to control my emotions. I'm glad it found a place next to you as well, and I hope it will stay as long as necessary.
Thank you, Odel. Your words stayed with me. I especially appreciate the image of seeing family as we see ourselves in a mirror—not idealized, but honestly, with both the good and the difficult parts visible.
You’re right that understanding what was passed down to us helps us decide what we want to carry forward and what we want to leave behind. Anger can make us forget the good, or even damage the very people and things we still need. Learning to pause, recognize that, and choose differently is hard work.
I’m grateful this lesson found its way to me, and I hope I carry it with the same honesty and care you brought to the essay. Blessings to you as well. 🙏🏽✨
Thank you for such a thoughtful reply. It means a lot to know the reflection stayed with you.
I really appreciate what you said about choosing what we carry forward and what we leave behind. I think that's one of the quiet responsibilities of adulthood. We can't change what we inherited, but we can become more intentional about what we pass on.
I'm grateful this conversation found you, and thank you for taking the time to share your perspective. Wishing you clarity and peace on your own journey. 🙏🏽🪞
Thank you, Odel. I love how you said that adulthood carries the quiet responsibility of choosing what we pass on.
We may not be able to change what shaped us, but we can become more careful with what we hand to others. That is a powerful kind of healing—not pretending the past was simple, but refusing to let it decide everything after us.
I’m grateful this conversation found me too. Wishing you clarity, peace, and continued wisdom on your journey. 🙏🏽🪞
Our fathers did all the could to show us the way. The might not be perfect, but they taught us so many things. Things that sometimes we come to forget. I'm glad this text resonates with you ☺️
Gran plantè and ti plantè made everything suddenly so small and close. For all the discipline and lessons, I keep seeing a boy following his dad around because he just wanted to be near him. Odel, I hope your old man knows how much of him is still walking around in you.
Odel, this is a deeply moving tribute because you resist the temptation to turn your father into a flawless figure. You allow him to remain human—sometimes absent, sometimes stern, sometimes hurtful, yet always profoundly present in the person you eventually became.
What stayed with me most was “No one taught you how to be a father either.” There is enormous compassion in that realization. Growing older sometimes allows us to look back at our parents not merely as parents, but as people who were themselves improvising their way through life with whatever wisdom, wounds, and limitations they had inherited.
I also loved the beautiful paradox at the heart of this piece: you believe your father might have achieved so much more had he possessed the knowledge you have today—yet he is the very person who made it possible for you to acquire that knowledge. That, perhaps, is one of the finest forms of inheritance: giving your children the tools to travel farther than you could.
I’m happily subscribing because I value writing that finds universal truths within deeply personal memories. At The Reflective State, I too write about memory, inheritance, and the quiet ways the past continues to live within us. If curiosity ever leads you there, I’d be delighted to have you read some of my work and share your thoughts.
Very glad to have discovered you, Odel. “My heart is filled with your values, your lessons, your principles, your hopes” says it all. Some inheritances cannot be counted because they have become part of who we are. Pure gold.
Thank you so much for taking the time to write this.
You noticed something that was very important to me while writing this letter. I didn't want to remember my father as either a hero or a villain. I wanted to remember him as a human being. I think that's often where understanding begins.
And your observation about inheritance really stayed with me. Sometimes the greatest inheritance isn't what our parents leave us materially, but the values that quietly become part of who we are without us even noticing.
I'm honored that the piece resonated with you, and I'm genuinely looking forward to reading The Reflective State. From the way you describe your writing, I have a feeling we'll have many conversations waiting for us.
This is such a moving tribute, Odel. What touched me most was that you did not portray your father as perfect to honor him. You allowed love, discipline, distance, hurt, and gratitude to stand together. That makes the tribute feel deeply human.
“Anger should not take away gratitude” is a lesson that will stay with me. So will the realization that your father gave you the opportunity to gain the knowledge he never had. That may be one of the most meaningful inheritances a parent can leave.
The ending is beautiful. “Your rebellious son” carries affection, history, and acceptance all at once. Your father clearly lives not only in your memories but also in the wisdom you carry into the world.
Thank you very much, Jay !
You resume this very well. The idea was never idealize my family, but to see them as they are, the way we can see ourselves in the mirror. We see the good and the bad. Because our families leave a lot in us, and sometimes taking time to unpack them can help us see what we want to leave in those who are coming after us.
This was a great lesson. When we are angry, we might undervalue what others do good for us. We might destroy them even if we need them. In a big scale, it's like when people in a country is manifesting and they destroy all the good things that have been built for them. This is one of the lesson I had big difficulty to manage back then, because it asks me to know how to control my emotions. I'm glad it found a place next to you as well, and I hope it will stay as long as necessary.
Blessings 🙏🏽✨
Thank you, Odel. Your words stayed with me. I especially appreciate the image of seeing family as we see ourselves in a mirror—not idealized, but honestly, with both the good and the difficult parts visible.
You’re right that understanding what was passed down to us helps us decide what we want to carry forward and what we want to leave behind. Anger can make us forget the good, or even damage the very people and things we still need. Learning to pause, recognize that, and choose differently is hard work.
I’m grateful this lesson found its way to me, and I hope I carry it with the same honesty and care you brought to the essay. Blessings to you as well. 🙏🏽✨
Thank you for such a thoughtful reply. It means a lot to know the reflection stayed with you.
I really appreciate what you said about choosing what we carry forward and what we leave behind. I think that's one of the quiet responsibilities of adulthood. We can't change what we inherited, but we can become more intentional about what we pass on.
I'm grateful this conversation found you, and thank you for taking the time to share your perspective. Wishing you clarity and peace on your own journey. 🙏🏽🪞
Thank you, Odel. I love how you said that adulthood carries the quiet responsibility of choosing what we pass on.
We may not be able to change what shaped us, but we can become more careful with what we hand to others. That is a powerful kind of healing—not pretending the past was simple, but refusing to let it decide everything after us.
I’m grateful this conversation found me too. Wishing you clarity, peace, and continued wisdom on your journey. 🙏🏽🪞
I felt the line about connecting Dad to lessons learned on my own. He made a path for me to do just that. Thanks for writing.
Thank you very much, Barbara !
Our fathers did all the could to show us the way. The might not be perfect, but they taught us so many things. Things that sometimes we come to forget. I'm glad this text resonates with you ☺️
Gran plantè and ti plantè made everything suddenly so small and close. For all the discipline and lessons, I keep seeing a boy following his dad around because he just wanted to be near him. Odel, I hope your old man knows how much of him is still walking around in you.
Thank you so much for this! It has inspired me to write to my father who has passed away.
Thank you so much, Rhonda !
I’m glad it has inspired you like that. I’m sorry for your father !
It’s my pleasure. Thank you for your kind words.
Odel, this is a deeply moving tribute because you resist the temptation to turn your father into a flawless figure. You allow him to remain human—sometimes absent, sometimes stern, sometimes hurtful, yet always profoundly present in the person you eventually became.
What stayed with me most was “No one taught you how to be a father either.” There is enormous compassion in that realization. Growing older sometimes allows us to look back at our parents not merely as parents, but as people who were themselves improvising their way through life with whatever wisdom, wounds, and limitations they had inherited.
I also loved the beautiful paradox at the heart of this piece: you believe your father might have achieved so much more had he possessed the knowledge you have today—yet he is the very person who made it possible for you to acquire that knowledge. That, perhaps, is one of the finest forms of inheritance: giving your children the tools to travel farther than you could.
I’m happily subscribing because I value writing that finds universal truths within deeply personal memories. At The Reflective State, I too write about memory, inheritance, and the quiet ways the past continues to live within us. If curiosity ever leads you there, I’d be delighted to have you read some of my work and share your thoughts.
Very glad to have discovered you, Odel. “My heart is filled with your values, your lessons, your principles, your hopes” says it all. Some inheritances cannot be counted because they have become part of who we are. Pure gold.
Thank you so much for taking the time to write this.
You noticed something that was very important to me while writing this letter. I didn't want to remember my father as either a hero or a villain. I wanted to remember him as a human being. I think that's often where understanding begins.
And your observation about inheritance really stayed with me. Sometimes the greatest inheritance isn't what our parents leave us materially, but the values that quietly become part of who we are without us even noticing.
I'm honored that the piece resonated with you, and I'm genuinely looking forward to reading The Reflective State. From the way you describe your writing, I have a feeling we'll have many conversations waiting for us.
Thank you again, and welcome to The Mirror Room.
What a beautiful way to honor your dad! You were truly blessed to have such a dad in your life! Thank you for sharing this part of your story!
Thank you so much, Laura 🥰🫶🏽
You’re so welcome!
This was such a lovely poem. I'm glad you cherish such a wonderful relationship.
Thank you very much, Seb !