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Mom and Dad, I’ve been wanting to tell you this for so long: thank you. Really, just thank you. Words feel too small for everything you’ve done.
I remember Dad’s hands—rough from work, always fixing things around the house. He’d come home tired, but still helped me with math problems I couldn’t solve, his voice patient even when I didn’t get it the first time. He never talked much about his own struggles, just made sure the car had gas and the house was warm. His love was quiet, like a steady light you could always count on.
And Mom. Her love was in the details. The lunchboxes packed just right, the way she’d stay up late when I was sick, her worried frown turning into a relieved smile when I felt better. She taught me how to be kind by being kind herself, showing me that strength isn’t about being loud.
I see it now—all those school fees, the years you put your own dreams aside, the little things you went without so I could have what I needed. You weren’t just raising a child; you were building a future for me, brick by brick, sacrifice by sacrifice. It’s humbling.
This gratitude isn’t about some big future payback I promise. It’s about right now. It’s in me trying a bit harder in school, in me calling home just to chat, in me finally noticing the grey hairs you got worrying about me. It’s the deep, quiet understanding that I am who I am because of you. Your love is my foundation, my safe place. For that, I am forever thankful.