Chapter 2: My Father, My Hero and My Hurt — From the Pages of Do Not Let the Fire Go Out

 

“A man can teach you how to be strong, even while he’s breaking you.”

To the outside world, my father was a hard-working man — respected, reliable, and strong. He drove trucks across the country, gone for weeks at a time to make sure we were provided for. When he came home, he was the joy of our little house. He brought groceries, gifts, hugs, and his booming laughter. His presence lit up the rooms. He was the kind of father who made me believe I could conquer the world — when he was sober.

He called me his “little soldier.” He would sit me down and say:

“Khotso, you are the man of the house when I’m away. Protect your mother. Lead with love. And always follow Christ. He is the only one who can teach you how to be a real man.”

Those were the moments that shaped my young mind. I remember sitting with him on the floor as he taught me how to use a spanner to tighten bolts. He let me sit on his lap and pretend to drive his truck. He once told me:

“Life is hard, my boy, but with God, you’ll always have a way through.”

But life has a strange way of blending light and shadow. Because the same man who kissed my forehead during the day… became someone else at night.

🌑 The Night He Changed

It started when I was five. I didn’t understand it then. All I knew was that when my father drank, something dark took over him. His voice would rise. His footsteps would sound different. He would scream at my mother, sometimes throw things. Sometimes worse.

When I tried to step in as a child, I would get hurt too.

That confusion — how could someone I loved so much hurt me like this? — sat in my heart for years. A silent ache I didn’t know how to name.

The mornings after were always the same. He’d act like nothing happened. He would hug us. Laugh. Take us out. And I would feel like maybe I dreamed it all. But I didn’t. My bruises, my mother’s quiet tears, and the silence that sat like smoke in our home — they were real.

🌓 Living in Two Worlds

I began to live in two worlds.

In one, I adored my father — my protector, provider, my hero.

In the other, I feared him — his hands, his voice, his unpredictable anger.

It was like loving fire, even when it burns you.

At school, I wore smiles like armor. No one knew. No one could know. We were raised to protect the family name, to keep quiet, to pretend. But the pretending started to chip away at me inside. I carried a weight I didn’t understand — but it was always there, especially when he was home.

And yet, I loved him.

That’s what made it so hard.

That’s what made the pain so complicated.

💔 Love and Pain in One Man

He wasn’t always a monster. He was also a man trying to do right by his family, failing under the weight of his own demons. He loved us — I truly believe that. But love mixed with pain can turn into something dangerous if never healed.

My mother never gave up on him. She prayed over him. She sang while cleaning the house, sang to drown out the memories. I would watch her kneel and pray, sometimes crying softly in the dark.

She taught me forgiveness.

But I didn’t know then that I would one day have to learn to forgive a man who never said sorry.

🙏 Church Saved Me

I didn’t talk about it. I didn’t even cry. I just held it all in, like trying to keep a volcano from erupting. But the cracks were already forming.

Church became more than a routine for me. It became survival.

I ran to it like a boy on fire, looking for a place to cool down. Looking for God. Looking for answers.

But the questions didn’t stop:

• Why did he hit us if he loved us?
• Why was he so good in the daylight and so dangerous at night?
• And what kind of man would I become because of him?

I didn’t know then, but the answers would come slowly — through loss, grief, and pain. And through a journey that would one day teach me:

To become a better man,

I had to face the broken one who raised me.

📖 Read More of My Story:

Do Not Let the Fire Go Out is available now on Amazon.

👉 https://www.amazon.com/author/modibolaauthor