I’m currently sitting in my room wondering how in the world I should start this letter, and how I can sum up my feelings in one short blog post without saying the things that I, and everyone else, have already said on all of the social media sites. I could Google as many Father’s Day quotes and Dad Jokes as humanly possible, but none of those could fully encompass how much I love and adore you. And plus, none of the Dad Jokes online could ever compare to the gems that you tell on a daily basis – “So is Hilary Duff going to be my new daughter-in-law?”
It’s been said before that any man can be a father, but it takes a special man to be a dad. Growing up, I always saw you as my very own personal Superman. You tied my shoes, reached things in high places I couldn’t reach, fixed the toys I broke, and even fixed my stomach aches. As I grew up and learned your story little by little, I began to realize that my Superman had more than just physical strength, but emotional strength as well. You left behind a toxic marriage and started over, tried to find your true soulmate who would love you unconditionally, and find strength while mending a shattered heart. But all of that led to where you are today, and I’m sure you wouldn’t change a single page of that history, no matter how many scars it left you. Now, as much as it pains me to see my Superman slowly lose strength everyday, I know that the Superman I saw as a child is still in there somewhere, and I can only hope that I can someday be the same for my own kids.
Dad, we may butt heads sometimes, perhaps even more times than either of us would like. As a child, I used to think that this was because you were just mean, and I often retreated to Mom for comfort. But as I grew up, I began to realize that this was because we are more alike than we thought. We’re both stubborn, passionate, and are often frustrated that the words and actions we try to convey are misconstrued for being difficult. Being just like you in this way gives me so much hope that I can at least be half the man you are, a man so full of compassion, kindness, and love. I may not know how to change a tire or the oil in my car, but you still taught me other valuable things, things that truly differentiate a boy from a man.
If there was one thing that I learned from you, it was to never be ashamed of who I am. Even though I couldn’t be the son you could play sports with, go bike riding with, or do any of the typical “manly” things with, you still nurtured my interests and guided me in the direction of my true passions. I saw pride in your eyes at all of my school plays, when I showed you a spread for Yearbook I worked hard on, and when I write a new blog post. I may not be interested in the same things many guys my age are, but nonetheless, I know I still make you proud, mostly that I have found interests that I can be proud of, and that I have come into my own on my own. Despite the comments that I got from a lot of relatives about not being aggressive enough, not knowing how to throw a football, not knowing how to be a “man,” you stood by my side and assured me that there was nothing wrong with the way I am. And it is because of you that I am not ashamed of who I am, what I love doing, and what my interests are.
I know it pains you to see your youngest grow up, but I want you to know that no matter what happens, I will be fine. You have taught me enough to survive in the world, and I will use these things to try and be just like you when I become a father. Even though my Superman may be gone someday, through the lessons and skills you have taught me, you will always live in my heart. Thank you for all of the things you have taught me, and thank you for cheering me on at the sidelines while I discovered who I was meant to be. Thank you for choosing me, thank you for being my dad.
One of your favorite sons, your little prince, your bunso.