a letter to my dad

Anyone who has ever met my dad can confirm that they most definitely like him more than they like me. (Even all of my friends, and I am fully aware of this.) And believe me, it is completely understandable as to why. He is funny. He is kind. He is loving and generous and personable. He is intentional about caring for my friends as if they were his own. 

The list goes on and on and on. 

My dad is my supreme confidant. My most unflagging supporter. My rock. A person I can run to. The pillars by which I stand. My favorite person on this planet. A man who suffused my life with love. Books. Movies. Laughter. Jesus. And sweet memories. My biggest inspiration. A man who loves with complete selflessness. Everything that I am is because of him, and everything that I will be is for him. I am so proud to be his daughter. 

My dad raised me to be an extremely independent person. As a child, he instilled in me the idea that I am more than capable of doing anything that I wanted to do, and be whoever I wanted to be. He taught me to reach for the stars and strive to be the best version of myself. He always told me how much I was loved. He lives for Autumn and I. He is the epitome of a Godly father; and as he shows in his love for us, it shows Christ’s love for us. He told us how proud he was of us. And to this day, he continues to do all of those things. As independent as I am, and now being in college, I have come to the realization of how dependent I am on the presence of my father.

For my entire life, my dad has been the North Star (if you will) guiding my life. A silent- but bright- leader. Pointing me in the right direction with gentle love. A light that is unchanging and reliable. Even now, at college, his presence remains the same as when I was younger. I may be growing up, yet he remains the same. 

As I have been dwelling in this truth, I realize just how true the “growing up” part of that idea is. 

When I was younger, my dad would build us forts in the living room when we didn’t feel like sleeping in our beds. His voice always in our ears telling us how loved we were. He held us when we had a nightmare. Sat through way too many viewings of Harry Potter. He taught himself how to braid hair. Sacrificed his fridge to our horrible drawings. Kept every art piece. He let us paint his nails when we already had too many layers of polish on. Built jewelry stands and painted everything pink and purple. He taught me how to ride a bike. How to (somewhat) successfully do the monkey-bars. He went to every game. Every dance. Every award ceremony. Every photoshoot. Every meet. Every performance. He held me when I cried too much about a boy. Held me when I got accepted to my dream school. Danced with us in the kitchen. His face was in every crowd. He read to us our favorite books.

He read to me my favorite books. I just have to say that again. Until yesterday, I did not realize how hard that truth would hit me.

In my Intro To Teaching class, our assignment was to pick a book that was our favorite to read to our student. Of course, I picked the story Tikki Tikki Tembo by: Arlene Mosel. When I mentioned that fact to my dad on our call yesterday, he said “I used to read that to you.” 

I have gotten to a point in my life where the books my father used to read to me as a kid, I am now reading to students of my own. (As I am typing this, the waterworks have started). What even is life?!

Even at college. Even while growing up. Even in a season of transition. He is there. I could not be more grateful for the life that my father has given me. I could not be more grateful for the love he has shown me, and the influence that he has placed in my life. There is nothing that I will ever be able to do to repay him for the life he’s blessed me with. 

I rely on his light. His guidance. His presence. His influence. His knowledge. His love. His consistency. His reliability. His selfless nature. 

I know why my dad is a lot of people’s favorite person. He truly is mine. To know him is to love him. And for those of you who don’t, you are missing out. 

And Dad- because I know you read these- I love you to the moon and back. And to Pluto.