I held my son Bach for the first time, and in that instant, the air thickened, the room tilted, and everything I thought I understood about purpose cracked open. Love was no longer soft, no longer abstract. It was fire, weight, command. A voice, steady yet relentless, said: build something that lasts for him, and for every child whose name may never be spoken but whose dreams still burn quietly in the dark. The Bach’s Wish Fund began there, fragile as a seed, restless as a tide.

Barriers are not theoretical to me. I have seen them, felt them, carried them like stones in my pocket. They stretch across childhood like fences, invisible yet suffocating, turning possibility into something that flickers and fades. My escape was education. A bridge of borrowed books, scholarships that arrived at the right moment, mentors who opened doors just wide enough for me to slip through. That bridge, shaky though it was, carried me forward. And once across, I could never ignore those who remained waiting at the edge.

Our work is measured in programs and projects, yes, but the truth of it lives in fragments. A smile breaking across a child’s face when school fees are covered. A notebook clutched tightly, pages filled with scribbled futures. A family breathing easier because one small burden has been lifted. These are not grand gestures. They are quiet revolutions. Each one says that education is not a gift to be granted but a right too long withheld.

Though the Fund bears my son’s name, its reach belongs far beyond him. It belongs to the boy who sketches stars while sitting under a leaking roof. To the girl who whispers her ambitions even as her village insists she should stop. To the thousands who rise each morning with nothing promised yet dare to believe tomorrow might open. Their stories gather here. Their hopes breathe here.

So I write this letter as founder, yes, but also as father, as someone who has seen love turn into responsibility. Walk with us. Lend what you can. Time, resources, voice. Each act is a declaration to children everywhere: your dreams are not fragile things that vanish in silence. They are fierce, luminous, unshakable. They are worth building a future around.

With gratitude that refuses to stay quiet,