A Letter to My Father

Dad,

You’re gone now, and it still doesn’t feel real. I keep expecting to hear your voice, to see you sitting in your favorite chair, to catch you giving me one of those looks that said more than words ever could. But if there’s one thing you always told me, it was to tell my story. So, I’m going to do just that—for you.

I’ve spent my life trying to make sense of things—where I come from, where I’m going, and what really matters in between. And now, more than ever, I understand that time moves whether we’re ready or not. We don’t get to hit pause, rewind, or ask for an extra round. We just have to do our best with the time we have.

You always taught me to stand my ground. Boxing has been my way of understanding that lesson. It’s never just about the punches—it’s also about the space between them. The moments when you’re backed into a corner, gasping for air, questioning whether you can keep going. The split-second decisions, the setbacks, the doubts.

It’s in those tough moments where we really find out who we are. And somehow, when the bell rings, we get up. Even if we’re tired. Even if we’re hurt. Because that’s the fight—we keep moving forward. And I get that now, more than ever.

Life isn’t much different. We don’t always get to control what comes our way, but we do get to choose how we respond. I’ve taken my share of hits outside the ring. Some I saw coming, some I didn’t. But even the hardest ones have given me something—a lesson, a shift in perspective, a reason to appreciate the times when I wasn’t getting hit at all.

So, I’ve decided to start writing. Not because I have all the answers, but because I think there’s something worth sharing in the questions. I want to talk about life—family, boxing, business, the lessons I’ve learned (sometimes the hard way), and the little things we often overlook.

This isn’t about sadness, Dad. It’s about perspective. About appreciating the moments, the people, and the journey—because at the end of the day, that’s all we really have. Even the tough times serve a purpose. Even the losses teach us something. And if we can learn to embrace all of it—the highs, the lows, the in-betweens—then maybe we can make the most of the time we’re given.

I hope you’re proud of me. And I hope, wherever you are, you’re still in my corner. Because I’m going to keep moving forward—one foot in front of the other, just like you taught me.

Love you always.

Your son

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