I never got to say goodbye. I never got to say hello. My father's smile, his laughter, his voice – they're all strangers to me. He left this world before I could even remember him. I was just a toddler, barely two years old, when he passed away.

My mother did her best to fill the void, to be both parents in one. She worked hard, she cared for me, and she loved me with every fiber of her being. But the pain of losing her partner, her rock, her best friend, was evident in her eyes. I could see the tears she cried at night, the loneliness she tried to hide.

But fate had other plans. My mother's strength was tested again when I was taken away from her, sent to live with my older brother in a different city. I was just a child, scared and confused, leaving behind the only home I knew.

My brother, who had become a stranger to me, did his best to care for me. He provided for me, fed me, clothed me, and gave me a roof over my head. But the love and warmth I yearned for, the love I saw in my mother's eyes, was missing.

I grew up with a void in my heart, a longing for a father I never knew, and a mother I barely remembered. I struggled to connect with my brother, who tried to be a father figure but couldn't fill the gap.

As I lay in bed at night, I wonder what my life would have been like if my father were still alive. Would I be happier? Would I be more confident? Would I be a better person?

The memories I never made haunt me. The laughter I never heard, the stories I never got to tell, the hugs I never received – they're all a reminder of what could have been.

~X~