dedicatedtodad

[dedicatedtodad]

5 December 2024 - Letter #1

To My Dad,

It's been a month and a day since you drove away in your 2nd generation Honda Pilot towards the brightest light in the sky. You know I miss you, but you also needed a rest from the ardent and burning pain you felt everyday. You needed a rest from the numbing cold of the hospital's big light. And you needed a rest from the nagging mother of your children. I understand, so don't look back, don't anchor yourself to the earth's richness and go to the warm embrace of God, whom you've always believed in.

If you're up there already: have you seen Oba and Oji who you've missed so much? have you met your ancestors who you've always been so proud of representing? can you see me or hear my cries? I might never know the answer, and I'm not sure I'm okay with that.

I find myself digging through every nook and cranny of my knowledge about you, trying to find out more about who you were. I don't know how many times I have googled you, how many times I've read and re-read your degrees and PhDs and titles just to fail at grasping what exactly you taught the students and staff you both valued and hated so much.

I'm someone who dreads Mathematics, I've failed in any attempts I've had of understanding the basic concepts of it. Yet, I find myself studying it whenever I want to commemorate you. I remember you told me you were in the 'Maths Club' in high school because of how much you liked the subject. So, I'm desperately trying to enjoy Maths to feel more like your daughter, to see for myself what you loved so much about it. To feel what you felt.

Most of all, I'd like to apologise to you. For everything I've done and still do: vaping is a major one. I am a hypocrite. I spent my days worrying about your lungs while not caring about mine. I still feel the need to do it, I've been using your death as an excuse, that it brings me comfort when I'm dejected. And it is partly true, but it is not fair to you and how many days you spent worrying about if I'm still using. I'm sorry, but I don't think I can stop for now. I want to quit, but I don't want it enough. If you were here, maybe it'd be a different story.

Truthfully, I'm angry at you. How you promised you'd see me graduate, get into a university, get married, have children of my own. But you didn't get to live through those promises. I know, I know... you're 'here in spirit' but that's not what I mean.

Sometimes when my phone buzzes with a notification, I hope it reads your name, I hope it reads 'papi' because that's how I always addressed you. But I know it won't, and I hate that. I just want you to call me, I want you to call me and tell me that you love me.

Dad, you've accomplished so much throughout your life, more than I could ever in a thousand lifetimes. You escaped poverty to the point I could call our family wealthy. You got into a prestigious university with a full scholarship, and then went on to give a certification of education to that same university. You wrote articles for organisations that my friends dream of working for. You taught thousands of students the foundations they based their careers on. You were a black belt in all of the martial arts I know the name of. You were the only patient in your section to wake up every morning and work out. You drove us everyday to school while feeling sick. You helped me find a field of study that I'm passionate about. You made sure to hug me goodnight and good morning every day. You withstood my teenage rebellion with a smile on your face. You were and are the most amazing, wonderful, loving father there ever was. I love you forever.

From your daughter.