TO MY FATHER

Your hero can also be part of your wounds.

After writing the letters to my mother, I turned to other members of my family.

I realized that we share different relationships with each of them—and from each relationship, we may inherit something different.

Once again, I ask you to resist the urge to judge.

Simply read these words for what they are: another voice on the path toward healing the inner child.

---

December 2025

TO MY FATHER

Father, oh, my father,
My hero, a pillar in my universe.
To me, you have always been more than a father.
A friend, a mentor, someone I could confide in.

I have never cared much for superstars,
They probably couldn’t care less about my troubles.
But you and Mother—you are my greatest stars.
Always there, no matter the moment.

I hear your voice despite the distance.
Your teachings, your advice, your guidance.
You have always known how to find the right words,
Words that lift me even through life’s most unfair moments.

The adult in me is filled with admiration.
But the child still carries accusations.
Today, I write them down to ease the tension
Between the little boy and the man still under construction.

Father, is it my memory or yours that is failing us?
Today, you tell me I have always been brave,
Yet I remember you calling me lazy so many times.
Should I trust my memories or your words?

I remember one moment in particular:
You, me, and my cousins, in the mountains.
From a cliff, you all jumped,
But I was too afraid.
I refused to cross that edge.

I no longer remember exactly what you said.

But I remember the feelings.

The shame.
The anger.
The humiliation.

A wound that stayed with me for a long time.

And yet, I never held it against you.
Perhaps because my heart was grateful to you.

Like Mother, you told that story too often:
How, when she tried to end the pregnancy,
You did everything you could
So I would live to see the present.

But do you know
what a fucking mess
the two of you created inside me?

The child did not need that truth.

You were good parents,
despite your flaws.

I could not hate you.
I could not hate Mother either.

I felt suffocated whenever I was close to you.

Being myself
felt too heavy around you.

Perhaps that explains
why I always preferred living far away.

I love you deeply.

But I breathe better
when I am far from you.

And yet, Father,
you have always been my best friend.

People say you are either a parent
or a friend to your child.
That you cannot be both.

But somehow,
you were both to me.

It is crazy.

Even today,
I still cannot explain how.

Know this, Father:

You remain my first mentor.

You never had the chance
to pursue great studies,
yet you are a great philosopher of life.

Your life is an example to me.
Your resilience, a true source of motivation.
Your compassion, an essential light.
Your humor, a bandage
for my childhood heart.

If life allowed me
to travel back in time,

I would change nothing.

Perhaps
I would tell you
about the child’s complaints.

Perhaps
we would understand each other
a little better.

Father,

Despite everything,
I am grateful.

Grateful to God
for you and Mother
as my parents.

Know that you both
hold a place of honor

in my heart.

---

Mirror Question:

When you think about the people who shaped your childhood, what did each of them leave within you—through their love, their mistakes, or even the distance between you?

And today, what are you choosing to carry forward?

CTA

If this poem resonated with you—or reminded you of a part of yourself—I invite you to share your story in the comments. I’d be honored to read it.

And if these words are something you’d rather carry quietly… thank you for being here.

Sometimes, simply knowing we’re not alone is enough.

Your presence in The Mirror Room means more than you know.

With clarity,
The Mirror Room
Odel A.