The love of a parent

The love of a parent: Love in it’s purest form

My parents’ hands are rough so mine can be soft. This simple truth encapsulates the essence of their sacrifice and love. I am in awe of my parents—their journey, their resilience, and the remarkable lives they’ve built. From humble beginnings to where they are today, their story is one of grit, fire, and the unyielding power of the human spirit.

Their strength is woven into the fabric of who I am. It’s their resilience that gives me the courage to believe I can overcome anything. Whatever dreams I chase in life, I know I carry their strength within me.

The love of a parent is truly astounding. Our mothers carry us for nine months, endure the pains of childbirth, and then spend sleepless nights tending to our every need. Parents give so much: their time, their energy, their mental and physical health, often sacrificing their own dreams and financial stability just to give us the best chance at life.

And yet, if you ask any good parent if it was worth it, they’ll say yes. Without hesitation, they’ll tell you they wouldn’t change a thing. That’s the power of a parent’s love.

No one will ever look at me the way my parents do. No one will ever smile at me with the same joy as my mom when I walk into a room. No one else will match the pride and tenderness my dad showed me in his eyes.

I only hope they know, or knew, that their love is reciprocated. I hope I’ve been a good son. I hope one day I’ll be a good father.

More than that, I hope my kids will one day look at me with the same gratitude I feel toward my parents. I hope I can look back on my life when I’m older and feel proud of the choices I’ve made. I don’t want to fall into the traps so many men do—chasing money or status at the expense of time with their families. I want to focus on what truly matters: building an empire of love, not an empire of dirt.

Someday, I want my children to hold my hands and see in their roughness a story of love, sacrifice, and devotion. I want them to know that my hands were rough so theirs could remain soft.

Muhsin