Is there an age or year of your life you would re-live?
“Not all kings wear crowns, some wear the weight of love and sacrifice so gracefully, even Heaven must stand to welcome them.”
If I were ever given the power to turn back time, I would not chase my youth, my laughter, or even the dreams I once left unfinished. I would go back to the year 2002, the year the world lost a humble man, but Heaven gained a soul so rare that even angels must have paused in awe.
2002 was the year my father took his final bow, but if I could rewrite that script, I would start the year again, slower this time, softer, with more gratitude and more “I love you’s.” I would hold on a little tighter, laugh a little louder, and capture every ordinary moment that I once thought would last forever.
My father was not a man of wealth, but he carried himself with a grace that no fortune could buy. His clothes may have been worn, but his dignity never was. He did not own a crown, yet kings could have learned from the way he carried his name. He was a poor man by pocket, but rich beyond measure in the things that truly matter, kindness, faith, and the ability to love without condition.
He had this quiet strength about him, the kind that did not roar but radiated peace. He taught through example, not lectures. He did not just raise me, he shaped me. Every value I hold, every ounce of compassion I give, and every boundary I refuse to cross, they all trace back to him. My father did not just tell me how to live, he showed me what it means to be human in a world that often forgets how.
If I could relive 2002, I would not change his fate. I know GOD had bigger plans for him. But I would change the way I lived that year. I would spend more time listening to his stories instead of rushing through them. I would ask more questions about his dreams, his struggles, his youth. I would memorise the way his laughter filled the room and the way his eyes softened when he looked at me.
Because the truth is, my father was not just my parent, he was my first definition of love. The kind of love that protects, nurtures, and never wavers. He may not have had riches, but he left me something priceless, the blueprint of character.
So yes, if I could relive a year, it would be 2002. Not to undo the pain, but to relive the beauty. To walk beside the man who never had much, but somehow gave me everything.
Because some souls are not meant to be measured by the world’s standards, and my father, my king, was one of them.