I have many things that I want to tell you. I want to tell you that I love you very much. I have, in my life time, met and known many fine fathers, and have read about many great men , yet, I can truthfully say I am glad I am your daughter.
When I was a little girl, for a long time, I truly believed that you were the most knowledgeable person I knew. If there was anything I didn’t know, I was pretty sure that dad would know.
Dad, You’re the perfect father because you had to swallow your pride and switched roles with Mommy when you lost your office job during our grade school years. You became a stay-at-home dad, doing what mothers are supposed to do for their kids. You cooked for us, washed our clothes, cleaned the house, and supported us in whatever ways you can. You’re not the type of father who spends little to no time with his kids. You’re the exact opposite because you enjoyed being with your children. That made us appreciate you more. Your loving acts more than compensated for your inability to provide for us financially. You love us, and that’s what really matters. You always make yourself available us.
I want to say sorry for all the times that I have disappointed you.
I know that I have bigger responsibilities to take and more challenges to face. Thank you for all the learning that I’ve gained from you which would help me turn into the responsible lady that everyone expects me to become. I’m sorry for all the times that I have disrespected you and made you feel less important.
Don’t think that as we grow older, your role as our Dad becomes smaller because it is the complete opposite of that. As we grow, the more we realize how important you are to us. You have always been part of what I’ve achieved and what I’ve become as a person. More than anyone else, you are the one whom I can turn to and who will understand me most
We love you, Dada, for being a good father and a loving husband to Mommy! Happy Father’s Day!
I bust out into tears last night.
What the fuck do you think - I have no brain in my skull? Of course I fucking goes in a fucking meaningful direction you fuckface. I don’t know how to figure out what your expectations should be when I am dealing with all this pain at the same time. So right now, I’m all super sensitive to everything people say and hyper-analyzing their interactions with me. I want to be the shit of out people. I can feel my arm muscles tightening up and fists forming. I feel solid, like steel. My jaw set, my voice low, my eyes piercing. Biting comments are jumping off the edge of my tongue, and I’m ready.
Other times I want to run far away stop time so that I don’t have to deal with solids and crawling and signing.
But I never run away. And I never fight. I smile. I fake it till I make it.