To: Emron Sultan Arsala

This graduation day, May 24th, 2024, feels like a miracle. Remember when I was so sick , those years before you even started kindergarten? You were just a little guy, barely four years old, but you faced everything with such strength. You held my hand through chemo, radiation, and endless doctor visits. Your bravery at that age was more than I could have ever imagined.

Since that time, you’ve walked 2,340 days to this stage. Remember that tiny you, starting your journey in Mrs. McNitt’s kindergarten class at Lakeview Elementary back in 2012? Now, you’re closing the first chapter of your life, a chapter filled with challenges for all of us.

But through it all, Emron, you’ve shone so brightly. Your kind heart, your unwavering faith, and the respect you’ve shown your parents – it fills me with a pride that words can’t express. You’ve grown into a young man I could only dream of.

This graduation is just the beginning, Emron. There will be more mountains to climb, more dreams to chase, and countless accomplishments waiting for you. As you step into this next chapter, never forget one thing: my love for you is boundless. I would take a thousand bullets in a heartbeat to keep you safe. You’ve always had, and always will have, my unwavering support.

Being a refugee dad, I didn’t have a manual for fatherhood. There were no step-by-step instructions on raising strong, kind children in a new land. But Emron, I want you to know, with every fiber of my being, that I tried my best. Every sacrifice, every struggle – it was all for you, for your future.

Life, Emron, is about empathy, about helping others, and cherishing your family. These are the values I hold dear, and I hope you carry them with you always. I may not have been the perfect dad, but I loved you with every beat of my heart.