You see, there are some truths in life that no amount of scheming or manipulation can change. They’re carved into your soul like initials in an old oak tree. One of those truths? Your mother. And the other? Your father.

Let’s start with your mother, the one person you can rely on when the rest of the world burns to ash and leaves you standing alone in the smoke. The thing about a mother is that she doesn’t have to be the one who brought you into this world—no, that would be far too simple for the way this world really works. A mother is the one who picks you. She chooses you when everyone else has turned their backs. When the tides of loyalty shift, and alliances crumble, she’s the constant you never have to second-guess.

And here’s the beauty of it: your mother isn’t limited by the title. She can wear many hats—a grandmother, a godmother, or even a friend. Sometimes she’s all three wrapped up into one. She might be the steady hand that guides you, the soft voice that pulls you back from the edge, or the unshakable presence in a storm. But don’t be fooled into thinking that her love comes without expectation. Oh no. A mother’s love may be enduring, but it’s not without its price. It’s built on respect and trust, the kind of foundation that, once cracked, takes a lifetime to repair—if it ever does.

And then there’s your father. He’s not the loud, fiery presence that shakes the earth beneath your feet. No, he’s quieter than that—subtle, but no less powerful. He’s the glue that holds everything together, even when you don’t realize it. Even when he’s not around, his influence lingers, shaping who you are and the choices you make.

Your father is the architect of your foundation. He may not have been the one to nurture every wound or dry every tear, but he’s the reason you know how to get back up after life knocks you down. Maybe he taught you through words, or maybe it was through silence—through the lessons you learned by watching him carry burdens he never asked for. He made you the person you are, whether you like it or not.

And when you take the two of them together—your mother and your father—you see the real picture. It’s not one without the other; it’s a balance. Your mother keeps you standing when you want to fall. She’s the unwavering support, the safety net that ensures you don’t crash too hard. Your father, though? He’s the reason you keep going at all. He’s the one who gave you the grit, the ambition, the fire in your belly to face whatever comes next.

But what about when they’re gone? And I’m not talking about a temporary absence—I’m talking about the kind of absence that leaves a permanent void. Some parents leave because death takes them before their time, and others leave because circumstance forces their hand. And then there are those who leave because selfishness drives them away. They turn their backs and walk away, leaving you to fend for yourself.

It’s tempting to let their absence define you. To let the pain, the grief, or the bitterness hollow you out. But here’s the thing: even in their absence, you’re still a part of something great. Why? Because you’ve taken the pieces they left behind—the lessons, the love, the wounds—and you’ve molded yourself into something extraordinary.

You’ve learned to survive, to thrive, from things that weren’t expected. You’ve grown in the cracks, where no one thought anything could take root. You’ve turned their absence into a strength, a fuel that keeps your fire burning even in the darkest moments.

For some of us, that’s where the real power lies—not in the presence of a perfect family, but in the resilience to rise above what was missing. To build something out of the void. To create a legacy that even they couldn’t have imagined.

So whether your parents are with you, guiding your steps, or gone, leaving you to find your own way, know this: you are unshakable. You are unstoppable. You are forged in fire, and no amount of loss or absence can take that away from you.

Your mother might be your anchor. Your father might be your compass. But you? You’re the captain of your own damn ship. Never forget that.