Just one day before my sixth birthday, on July 1st, 2013, my father passed away from sepsis. Losing a parent so young is losing a piece of yourself before you even understand who you are. My memories of my father are blurred, not just by time but by the pain of his absence. What I remember most vividly isn’t his love or laughter but the moment I begged him to wake up, watching helplessly as he took his last breath. His absence shaped every part of my childhood. Without life insurance, there was no safety net. My mother, left to raise six children alone, worked herself to exhaustion as a custodian, coming home too tired to do anything but sleep. My older siblings, once my protectors, were forced into adulthood, giving up their dreams just to keep us afloat. College was never an option for them; they took jobs young, prioritizing survival over aspirations. When my stepfather entered our lives months later, I hoped things would change. He was supposed to provide stability, emotionally and financially. Instead, his promises were empty. He didn’t help my mother with bills, and when he left, he took more than just the little money we had, he took away my innocence. For eight years, I endured sexual assault from someone who was supposed to heal the wounds of my father’s death. Instead, he made them worse. As I grew older, I realized my father’s absence extended beyond finances. There would be no father-daughter dance at my quinceañera, no cheers from him at my graduation, no steady hand to walk me down the aisle. When I attend college, I won’t have his guidance, his support, or his pride. Instead, I have had to push myself. To help my family, I took on responsibilities no child should. I cared for my nieces and nephews while my siblings worked, kept the house in shape, and learned to be independent when I should have been carefree. While my classmates worried about homework, I worried about whether we’d have enough for rent. I refused to let my circumstances define me. I turned to education as my way out, knowing I had to break the cycle. None of my siblings went to college, but I am determined to be the first. My father had only completed elementary school before coming to the U.S., but he wanted more for his children. If he were here, he would have told me to keep going, to fight for the future he never got to have.
This scholarship isn’t just about financial relief, it’s about rewriting my family’s story. If my father had life insurance, my path would have been easier, but it wouldn’t have changed my determination to succeed. His absence shaped me, but it will not define me. I will honor his memory by walking a path no one in my family has. I will graduate. I will succeed. And I will ensure my struggles pave the way for something greater.