To the mark I leave behind,

You are the fire that drives me, the whisper in my soul that refuses to be silenced. Long before my hands touched ink or my voice carried weight, you existed—a shadow of what could be, a promise waiting to be fulfilled.

I have built you from struggle, carved you from sacrifice, and shaped you with love so deep it demands to be remembered. You are more than words on a page, more than echoes in time—you are proof that I was here, that I lived with purpose, that I refused to let the world forget me.

You are written in my children’s laughter, stitched into every lesson I have taught them. You exist in the stories I tell, the battles I have won, the kindness I have given—even when I had nothing left to give.

The world may one day forget my name, but it will not forget you. You will live on in the lives I’ve touched, in the hands that carry my work forward, in the echoes of every love I have left behind.

So I write this to you, my unwritten chapters, my unfinished song, my enduring fire—may you outlive me, outshine me, and carry forward everything I dared to dream.

With all that I am,
A man who refuses to be forgotten.