Some paths are not drawn solely by perseverance, but by a deep longing to soothe the pain of absence. When the greatest love—a mother’s love—is lost too soon, a quiet rage may rise, seeking refuge in books, discipline, and the precise language of the law. Philosophy, legal codes, taekwondo belts, and long hours of study were once tools to contain that fire. And in many ways, they still are—holding me up as I learn to live with what no one can return: the ones we loved and lost.

A grandfather who rose from humble beginnings to build a career beyond borders taught that thought needs a compass, and that music and study belong to everyday life. And a Dominican nun, who spent her afternoons teaching that discipline is an act of love, showed that the heart often recovers what was lost through service.

At the intersection of law, memory, and ethics, this work stands as a tribute to them—and to every silent story now stored in the cloud, waiting to be preserved with dignity.

Perhaps, if they were still here, they would be proud of where their teachings have taken root.