Hello dad, it is me once again celebrating you, in my own way.  How I wished you could read this one more letter, but fate has made your carousel to stall all of a sudden, the music to stop playing and the bell to stop ringing.

I just want to tell you how much I love you, how much I miss our talks, how much I miss being your child. A large, dark cloud though hovers over you.

Dad, I miss running to you with my worries and hearing your thoughts whenever crucial decisions bothered me. I remember you sitting silently, listening with your left arm folded and slightly biting into your right thumb. You never judged or preached but were always ready to give some advice. Our shared values are still with me. I embrace them. I treasure them.

Authoritarian you never were! And it is from you that I learned what choice meant, what determination was.

We never went fishing, we never played pool, we never played ball but we always went to The Game, Soccer that is. You would linger with the bigwigs and I, with the peeps, so I could yell my lungs out.

Occasionally, we would go to the bashes but you were too shy to be caught dancing. A point that makes me question where I got my dancing shoes from.

You are smart and intelligent, a thought-out individual. You introduced me to books in your stuffed library, books of all sorts of shapes and colours and tastes. You infused in me that sense of conscientiousness and self-worth. It does not matter, you said, ignore the ignorant long enough and they will go away. No sense in fighting them.

You detested conflicts; it was not your forte. I never heard you complaining or arguing; I never saw you screaming or yelling at anyone.

I never saw you but showing genuine love and deep respect to mom– your love for her was untainted, unadulterated, extraordinary; you perpetual love affair made and still makes me burn with envy. I never heard you raising your voice or your hand on her and for that I could never thank you enough. Perhaps, you were otherwise somewhere else but that is a foreign elsewhere to both me and my sister.

You are not a blabber; you never were. You are a man of a few words I noticed. You barely shared your thoughts. We were often left to read in between the lines when you sat alone in the sofa; always with your eyes close, your hands going through your balding head while now and then I caught you recklessly chewing on your nails. We knew better. You always spoke in metaphors; so, us girls were left to translate them.

It was your dry sarcastic sense of humor that made my funny side possible. You traveled the world over returning with stories that you shared at dinner. Oh, how I miss those moments! We would sit and talk about things. My mother was the butt of a lot of our jokes but she didn’t mind; it was all in good fun.

Long before email, FaceBook or Skype sucked us in, I had your letters. You wrote often and your letters were delightful. You always knew what to say and how to say it. You knew how to satiate my anxious salivating soul. I enjoyed them then and do enjoy them now. Then they stopped coming, they were no more. I wish you could see the way we talk today Dad. It is so instant now; with a click I could have seen and heard you, even when you are thousands of miles away.

Once upon a time, I was your princess, your finicky little girl and your young tomboy; today, I am your anguished daughter.

Dad, I so miss you. I miss talking to you. I miss our conversations. I miss our moments. I miss exchanging a few words with you. I miss hearing your sarcastic humor and calm voice, your good manners and your beautiful heart. I miss all of you but you are not here. I can only commit to the memories and dream that one day you will be able to stand again. I imagine you all “fixed up” but I know better; I resort to just wishing.

Thank you for being my dad, thank you for having been my friend.

Happy Father’s Day!