The scholarships I believed were purely merit-based had been supplemented by his hidden contributions. He wrote, “You always wanted to believe you did it alone. I let you. I wanted you to feel strong and capable. But you should also know that I believed in you every step of the way.” Beneath the letter lay receipts, notes, and tiny scribbles tracking every cent he saved. It was the love story of a parent written in numbers and small sacrifices.

At the bottom of the box, wrapped in cloth, I found a simple gold watch. It was the one he wore every day—the one I teased him about for being “old-fashioned.” Engraved on the back were four initials—mine and my siblings’—surrounding the words, “My purpose.” Suddenly I understood why he worked so relentlessly.