My father grew up in the countryside of Puerto Rico. His family didn’t have much, but what they lacked in wealth they made up for in faith and resilience. He learned from a young age that life’s blessings often come wrapped in struggle. Those years shaped everything about the man he would become.

He joined the Air Force, chasing a dream that began when he was a boy looking up at planes flying through the sky. He wanted to be a pilot, but racism got in his way. It would’ve been easy to let the bitterness of that injustice define him. Instead, he stayed and rose through the ranks as an intelligence officer, eventually retiring as a lieutenant colonel.

He’s a disabled veteran now, his body worn down by 20 years of military service. The back pain that slows him is a constant reminder of what he gave for this country. Yet, he never let that pain keep him from showing up for my brother and me.

He drove me to speech and debate tournaments hours away, weekend after weekend, sitting through long hours so I could compete. He paid for my violin when I wanted to learn music and filled our shelves with books that fostered a love of reading. When I joined Civil Air Patrol, he was there too, helping me press my uniform and perfect every drill step. Every time I found a new passion, he found a way to make it possible.

When I wanted to apply to one of the top high schools in the country, Thomas Jefferson High School for Science and Technology, he covered the testing and application fees. He never told me how much it cost; he just told me to do my best. I got in, and years later, I’m here at Lafayette on a full scholarship. None of that would have been possible without him.

My dad’s only aspiration was to give his sons the life he never had — one where we could pursue our aspirations freely. He sacrificed everything for that promise, even his own financial security. He took from his retirement fund and disability pensions so that my brother and I would never have to feel the scarcity that shaped his childhood. He carried the weight of our dreams on his back and never once complained. When I think about that now, it humbles me in a way that words couldn’t possibly capture. There is no greater honor in the world than to call him my father.

I admit that I have been negligent as his son. I haven’t done remotely enough to show how much I appreciate him. It’s easy to take our parents for granted and assume their selflessness is a fixture of life. It’s not. It’s a choice, made every day, out of love.

My dad’s birthday was this past Wednesday. He probably wouldn’t want much attention for it — he’s a humble man — but he deserves it. Parents like him always do.

So today, and every day after, I hope we all tell our parents that we love them and that we’re grateful. Because behind every child’s freedom to dream stands someone who quietly gave everything to make it possible.

William Gutiérrez ‘27 is a Government & Law major at Lafayette College. He wrote this essay as a reflection on his father’s birthday.