Unbroken Bonds: A Daughter's Love Beyond the Pain

Family relationships are undeniably the most important aspect of our lives. However, conflicts, jealousy, and unresolved issues can sometimes strain these connections—particularly the bond between father and daughter, or mother and son. Despite these challenges, love always prevails.

As I read articles about the father-daughter relationship, I couldn’t hold back my tears before class began. I excused myself to the bathroom, trying to regain my composure. Initially, I thought of not writing this article at all, but I decided to do it anyway. It was a way to show myself that I have overcome the sorrow and grief of losing one of the most important people in my life. Writing this assignment required great courage, even though it broke my heart all over again.

It has been about a year since my father passed away, but the memory of who he was still lives vividly in my heart. I loved him deeply and idolized him, especially as a young child. He was my protector—shielding me from bullies, including my brothers, and even saving me from my mother’s punishments when I made mistakes. Growing up, I became a spoiled child, but I made sure to excel in school to make him proud. I earned first honors from grades 2 to 4, but my father never attended any of my graduation ceremonies, which left me confused and saddened.

Due to our family's financial struggles, my parents decided to move to another city for work, which meant we saw each other less often. My brother and I continued to live our lives, happy and carefree, while my parents would visit once or twice a month, bringing food and helping with school fees. When I started grade 5 at a new school, I faced more challenges—especially because I often went without food. I’m forever grateful to a teacher who understood my situation and sometimes brought extra food for me. Despite these hardships, I ended up as third honors and received a special award upon graduating grade 6.

The day of my graduation, my heart dropped when I realized no one had come to attend it. I watched my classmates surrounded by their parents, their faces full of joy, while I stood alone. In that moment, I wished I could disappear. I couldn’t understand why no one showed up, and I tried to bury the pain by focusing on my high school life. I threw myself into my studies, maintaining my second-place academic rank and excelling in extracurricular activities. Deep down, I convinced myself that my parents hadn’t attended because I wasn’t an honors student.

But things took a darker turn in my second year of high school. It was festival time, and dancing late into the night was one of the event's highlights. I was having a good time with my friends when, unexpectedly, my mother showed up and asked me to leave. I didn’t know my father had followed her. Despite feeling it was too early to leave, I said goodbye to my friends and stepped outside. That's when my father grabbed my hair, kicked my legs, and slapped me hard across the face in front of everyone. I was stunned. It was the first time he had ever hit me like that. The shock overwhelmed me, and it became clear that any time there was an event at school or a chance to go out with my friends, I wasn’t allowed. There were so many "NOs" in my life, and any disobedience was met with violence.

If I could turn back time, I would stay by your side until your last breath.

Despite everything that happened between my father and me, the love I felt for him never faded. There is no bitterness in my heart—only regret for not caring for him as he lay sick. I wish I had been there more. Eight years passed without seeing each other, and now it’s too late. I love you, Dad. Rest in peace.

Some labeled me as a "battered daughter," but I never saw myself that way. Yes, my father did hit me, but I don’t think he ever meant to hurt me. It was something that happened sometimes, and I learned to shrug it off or laugh it off, maybe because I was used to it. I still loved him with all my heart. I remember one instance when my teacher assigned me to write a piece on the "Enter High School Sports Tournament" as a practice project. It was fun! But on my way home, I saw my father with a look of anger on his face. My family and others seemed worried, but I smiled at them and walked straight to him, not knowing that he would strike me with a guava tree branch. He hit me repeatedly, across my body, legs, thighs, and arms. The bruises lasted for days. But I didn’t feel anger toward him. I believed that, one day, he would realize the wrongness of his actions.

When I graduated and became a high school teacher, I thought I had left the worst behind me, but history repeated itself. I was conflicted, torn between the love I still had for him and the pain he had caused me. I couldn’t understand why he did what he did, but I lacked the courage to confront him. I didn’t want to hurt him, and at the same time, I needed distance. So, I applied to be a caregiver and moved to Canada, seeking freedom from his influence. It was a bittersweet feeling—on one hand, I was happy to have my independence; on the other, I was sad to be away from my family and the work I loved.

Over time, I convinced myself that I was strong, even though the challenges I faced were far worse than I had expected. There were moments when I wanted to return home, but I was too scared. It wasn’t until last year that I spoke with my father one last time on the phone. He told me he was happy, proud of me, and ready to meet his Maker, knowing that he had been blessed with loving children.

A Love That Transcends Time

No matter the struggles, the pain, or the scars left behind, my love for my father remains unshaken. He was more than just a parent—he was my protector, my idol, and the first man I ever loved. Even when circumstances were difficult, and misunderstandings clouded our relationship, my heart never stopped yearning for his approval and presence.

Now, as I look back on our shared moments—both the joyous and the painful—I realize that love is not defined by perfection, but by the bond that endures beyond all the imperfections. My father may no longer walk beside me, but his love lives within me, a constant source of strength and inspiration. I carry his lessons, his spirit, and the imprint of his love in everything I do.

To the world, I want to say this: there is no greater love than the love between a daughter and her father. Despite the hardships, I will forever hold my father in my heart. I love you, Dad, always and forever. Rest in peace.