I will never walk alone.

O Captain! my Captain!

Our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,

Walt Whitman.

When I was little, I remember waking up in the mornings and going to my father's bed. There, he would always warn me about how dangerous the sea was and that I should never even think about embarking. Like any good son, I didn’t follow his advice and decided to try my luck on the high seas. 

A year after my first voyage, my father passed away. Unfortunately, I couldn’t say goodbye to him, and that’s something that has stayed with me all these years. Something similar, though on a different scale, is that I haven’t said goodbye to my other self, the one before I met Mr. Park.

My father was and still is to me what Maradona is to Argentinians, D10S. The admiration and devotion I felt for him is beyond words.

There are many nights when I dream of him, and although it feels so real, I quickly wake up and return to reality. It doesn’t matter, that small dream is enough for me to tell him my things.

I remember many moments from my childhood with him, moments when I didn’t understand why he had to work away for so long. Now, I’ve come to understand that, now that I’ve found myself in the same situation with my daughters.

Now, I look back, I do a Time-Lapse of my life, and I know he would be proud of me and who I am today.

Wherever you are, I love you, my Captain.

I will never walk alone.

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