A Letter to Daddy

Dear daddy, my disciplinarian,

There is a surfeit of great things to say about you but I just don’t know where to begin. A father’s love is so special to his daughter. As you know, you are very special to me.

You told me how much you loved me and how beautiful I am daily. So I didn’t need men to validate me. I cherished those words because it prevented me from giving myself over to anyone who just said they love me. Going down memory lane, you are the first man to love me. You were the prototype I held on to when men came to pursue me.

You incited in me the OCD that I have. You hated seeing a grain of salt on the floor… that no one can see but you. You hated when we put pots in the fridge and now, so do I. You needed things to be in a perfect line and now, so do I. I would have it no other way. I recall how overprotective you were and how I never got away with murder.

I summoned to mind a memory of you. At the age of 9, after hurricane Luis, a category five storm, I had to be rushed to the hospital because my foot was cut by a sharp piece of zinc roofing of someone’s home that silently and invisibly laid on the ground. Rushing me to the hospital, after losing much blood, I started to feel very weak. Hands and forehead were drenched with sweat. They began to stitch the soles of my left foot without anesthesia. I begin to feel the string passing through every fiber of my foot. Losing blood and strength, I whisper, “daddy, don’t leave me, don’t let me go.” You help my hand and aid me to endure this distress, “It will be ok baby.”

I’m grateful that you weren’t an absentee father. You were there to see all my milestones. Though being an absentee father was an option for you, you never took it. My heart is full knowing that God made a great choice entrusting you the role of being my dad.

Happy birthday Daddy,
I pray for you to see many more days filled with love and joy.
Cheers!

How can this post inspire you? You might ask. I aspire this to inspire you to cherish and respect your father. Love on him daily. Growing up, the times when my dad was being so overprotective and tough on me, I hated it… is it safe to say? … I hated him! Hated is a strong word, isn’t it? But as a child, being chastised and grounded seems like torture. He desired me to be perfect but I couldn’t. In Hindsight, these momentous events molded me into the woman I am today. I attribute my ability to decode a situation, no bulls!@# kinda gyal, zero tolerance, extrovert and chatty self to daddy.  Coming to NY was simply to go to the university, which was fully paid by my dad, hence why I don’t have any student loans.

Once I’ve arrived to the U.S. I had full freedom to do everything… especially everything that I never had a chance to do. Having a boyfriend, have sex, go to the club, smoke pot and the list can go on forever. Guess what, I never fulfilled any of them. The thought or the desire to do them was inexistent. I didn’t care for these things. I was a 17 years old girl with a 40 years old woman maturity. Yeah, so I didn’t do ANYTHING illegal because of the fear disappointing him. Appreciate your dad and all the sacrifices that he has made or still doing for you. Dads are our superheroes!