There was a bond between my father and me—not always spoken, but deeply felt. Life had carried us in different directions.
We spoke little, we shared little—but from heart to heart, we always heard each other.

That night, at the edge of endings, for the first time in my life, I spoke everything I had held within:
“I forgive you. I love you. You are so precious to me.”

And I said something else: “You’ve always been the mountain I leaned on. Now, without you, I don’t know how to survive.
But don’t worry. I am your daughter. And like you, I will rise again— stronger, and on my own feet.”

That night wasn’t just a farewell. It was a completion.

Because I began to understand that his presence in this life had allowed four souls—us, his children—
to come into being.
I was the first.
With me, he became a father.
Then came the others—
each, a step in his karmic journey.

And when the youngest of us was born,
his soul’s task was fulfilled. All that remained was for the first soul he brought into this world—me—to release him.

And that night, I did.

He passed the next morning, at peace, at the age of fifty-four— his cycle complete.

This painting is not only about loss. It is about the liberation of a soul, the quiet ending of a karmic circle,
and the moment my own deep transformation began.

Even though he is no longer here in body, his spirit still finds me—in dreams, in silence, whenever I lose my way.