An Open Letter To My Dad

Dear Dad,

I can still remember my dad learning how to do a “topsy tail” in my hair so I could have cute hair like the other girls at school. 

I was six years old. It had been two years since my mom passed away unexpectedly — a brain aneurysm. Two years of life with just my dad and brother. Two years of my dad learning how to do ballet buns, braids, and other typical-girly things, on top of navigating life as a single parent. 

It would take me 24 more years — once my first child was born — to truly understand the depths of love and the sacrifices he made in order to keep our family strong and thriving in the years that followed my mom’s death. 

I had my first child at 27 and the second at 31. My partner is as hands-on as they come, and there are still days when we can barely keep our heads above water. 

I don’t know how my dad did it. Two kids, four and six, on his own for four years. And he did it well. Where others might have faulted, my father was incredible. There wasn’t a ballet recital or school field trip the he didn’t attend. We did everything together as a family, just the three of us. 

Looking back now, as a mother of two, I see things a bit differently. Attending my brother’s judo practice was probably less about “family time and supporting each other” and more about my dad not being able to be in two places at once. But the values that were instilled remain rooted in the person I am today. And I think that’s what I’m most appreciative of – that throughout my childhood, my dad instilled so many important values that I practice today.

Every day I tell my kids I love them. There is always time for a hug or a kiss. We talk about anything, in safe and comfortable environment, and work through our conflicts together, openly. The stereotypical gender roles don’t exist in our house, as my husband does laundry and paints my kids’ toenails, while I mow the lawn. We always eat dinner together at the table, sharing stories of our days and learning more about one another. These are all things I learned from my dad. These are all things he, perhaps unknowingly, instilled in me and that I believe to be important building blocks in creating a loving home.

In some ways, my story is a tragic one I suppose. But in this tragedy my father created something beautiful. Special. We were each other’s life rafts. Our support. Our love. We were a family. There isn’t a day that goes by that I’m not grateful for the sacrifices he made in order for my brother and I to feel loved.

It’s been almost three decades since my mother has passed. Countless holidays have been celebrated. New additions to our family have arrived. Many things have changed. But one thing remains the same: we are still each other’s life rafts. And to feel unconditionally loved and supported is something truly amazing. 

Thank you, Dad