There are many things we hold dear in our memories—some are vivid images, others are fleeting feelings.
For me, it’s the sound of my father’s voice. Even though time has passed, and he is no longer with me, his voice still echoes in my heart as clearly as if he had just spoken.
His voice had a calm, steady strength that made you feel safe. It wasn’t loud or demanding, but it carried weight. Whether he was giving advice, telling a story, or simply calling my name, there was always warmth and meaning behind every word. I remember the way he would say, “Everything will be okay” whenever life felt overwhelming. And somehow, when he said it, I believed him.
What I miss most is hearing his laughter. It was deep and genuine, the kind of laugh that made others join in without even knowing why. It would fill the room and make even the darkest days seem lighter. I also remember how his tone would change when he was serious, firm, but never harsh. His voice taught me right from wrong, but more importantly, it taught me compassion and patience.
Now, whenever I’m faced with a difficult decision or I feel lost, I pause and try to imagine what he would say. It’s strange how powerful a voice can be, even when it’s just a memory. His words, spoken years ago, still guide me today.
I may never hear his voice again in the way I once did, but I carry it with me—an invisible thread connecting me to who I am, and where I come from. In quiet moments, I close my eyes, and there he is: my father, speaking to me, reminding me that I’m never truly alone.
