Doctors said my dad, Michael, could never raise a child because he has Down syndrome.
But every single day of my life, he proved them wrong.

He worked at the campus library, shelving books with care and following routines that kept his world steady.
When I was little, he helped me with my homework — patiently, gently — even when it took him longer to understand the questions than it took me to ask them. 💛

Mom left when I was six months old, but Dad stayed.
He cared for me with everything he had.
Warm meals, bedtime stories, morning walks — love stitched into every part of my childhood.

When I got accepted into the same university where he worked, he was so proud he cried.
He saved money for my books.
Walked me to my first classes.
Reminded me, over and over, that I belonged there. 🎓

And today, as I crossed the stage at graduation, he clapped in the front row like it was his achievement —
because in a way, it was.

In that moment, I realized something beautiful:
love made our little family stronger than anyone expected…
stronger than any doubt, any limitation, any label. ✨

My dad didn’t just raise me.
He raised me to believe in myself —
and that is the greatest gift a parent can give.