Chapter 1: My Only Son

My name is John Parker. I am an old man now, but when I close my eyes, I see one picture again and again. It is the day my son was born. That day, I felt like life had given me the biggest gift. My wife held the baby in her arms. She looked at me with tears and a smile, and I whispered, “He is ours. Our son. Our Daniel.” I had no money, no wealth, but I felt rich because I had him.

From the first day, we promised ourselves one thing. We would give him a better life than ours. We had lived a life of struggle, but he would not. I remember nights when we had little food. My wife would push her plate towards me and say, “Eat, John.” But I could see her eyes. She was hungry. I pushed it back and said, “No, you eat.” Then we both looked at the baby in the cradle, and we said together, “He must eat first. He must grow strong. He must never feel hunger like us.”

I worked in a small factory. My back often hurt, but I never stopped. My wife sewed clothes for neighbors until her fingers were sore. Many nights we stayed awake, counting coins, thinking how to pay school fees, how to buy books. Sometimes we had nothing left for ourselves, but we never complained. We looked at Daniel’s face and told each other, “This is worth it.”

I remember one winter evening. Daniel said, “Dad, I need new shoes for school.” My heart sank because I had no money. That night I took an extra shift. I carried heavy boxes until midnight. My body was tired, but I kept thinking of his little feet. The next morning, I placed the shoes on his bed. When he saw them, he jumped with joy and hugged me. He said, “Dad, you are the best.” At that moment, all my pain disappeared.

Another time, Daniel’s school planned a trip. He came running and said, “Dad, please let me go. Everyone is going.” I knew we had no money. That night, my wife took off her necklace. It was the only piece of gold she had from our wedding. She sold it quietly. She put the money in my hand and said, “Do not tell him. Just say yes.” The next morning, I smiled at him and said, “Go, son. Enjoy yourself.” He hugged us both and shouted, “Thank you!” My wife turned her face away so he would not see her tears.

On his birthdays, we saved coins for months. We bought a small cake, sometimes just one candle. When he blew it, we clapped like children. We sang for him, we laughed, we forgot our hunger and pain. I can still hear his voice saying, “Dad, Mom, this is the best day.” Those words were more precious than gold.

One day he won a prize at school for handwriting. He came home with the small trophy. He held it high and shouted, “I did it!” I lifted him in my arms. My wife kissed his forehead. Neighbors came and clapped. I felt proud, as if he had become a great man already. That night, I could not sleep, not from worry, but from happiness.

Sometimes people asked me, “John, why do you work so hard? Why do you never rest?” I always said, “Because I have a son. Because he will live a better life than me.” My wife often whispered to me, “He is our future, John. He will shine. He will remember what we did for him.” I nodded and held her hand. We believed it. We believed love never goes to waste.

When Daniel was little, he loved us deeply. After school, he ran into his mother’s arms. He said, “Mom, guess what happened today!” He sat with me in the market, holding my hand tightly. He laughed at my silly jokes. He often said, “Dad, when I grow up, I will buy you a big house. I will make you proud.” Those words were music to my ears.

But time does not stop. Children grow fast. I did not notice when he became a young man. He started talking about big dreams, about the city, about a better future. I knew it meant he would leave us one day. My heart became heavy, but I smiled. I told him, “Go, son. Study. Make your future. We will always pray for you.” My wife’s eyes filled with tears, but she also said, “Go, Daniel. We are always with you.”

That night, after he slept, we sat together in silence. She whispered, “I wish he would never go.” I said softly, “But we cannot keep him. Our love must give him wings. We want him to fly higher than us.” We both looked at his sleeping face. I touched his hair and said in my heart, “Please, son, never forget us. Wherever you go, do not forget the hands that raised you.”

Those were the golden years of my life. The years when my son was small, when his laughter filled the house, when his smile made every pain disappear. I thought those days would last forever. I was wrong.