Someone wise once said, "Blood is thicker than water."
That even when the world turns against you,
the ones who gave you life will always stand by your side.
I never understood those words—
not until recently,
when I heard my mother crying in her room,
hoping I wouldn't witness the tears that fell endlessly each night.
For years, they wished I could see the sacrifices they made,
but that night, I did.
She wept, and I pretended it didn't break me.
She said, "I feel like I've failed you, like I'm worthless."
Her words were a wound I can never heal.

The guilt I carry weighs heavy in my chest,
and I wanted to fall to my knees,
beg for forgiveness for every rebellious moment,
for every time I hurt her with my defiance.
But instead, I sat with her,
holding her,
hoping that even if it wasn't enough,
it might soothe her heart,
if only for a moment.
I can never repay what she's given me,
but I will always try.

My father, too, has shed tears,
though he hides them behind a mask of strength.
The man who stands unshaken,
would sacrifice everything for those he loves.
He would let his world burn
if it meant I was safe,
if it meant I learned from my mistakes.
It took me 15 years to realize this,
but I finally did.
The man I ran to as a child,
the one who would fight for me,
who would move heaven and earth to bring justice for me—
that is the man I am eternally grateful for.

And if anyone ever told me to leave them,
I would swear, with all my being,
I never could.