Appreciating Dad

I dunno about you, but it's so hard to tell dad that I love him.

"Happy Father's Day, Papa," I greeted him cheerily yesterday. There was at least one and a half feet of distance between us. Mom gave me a nudge. "Go hug him," she said with a wink. So I tentatively closed in the space between us and gave him a quick side hug. Poor dad, he wasn't used to this sudden display of affection that he just moved away a little.

Evening soon came. I found myself staring at the poem I wrote in honor of him on Father's Day. I wanted him to read it, savour it and relish in the knowledge that I esteemed him highly. And yet, I wasn't sure of how he'd react. To be fair, he had always loved my poems and dedications to him. But there was an incident when my verbal declaration of love to him was met with unexpected hostility. I guess that still left some scars.

So there I was, staring at photo and poem that I've printed in pristine white stock card paper for him. I told myself that there was no better opportunity than Father's Day to give him my love offering. I crept downstairs and in the midst of my other family members, handed him the poem.

He received it calmly and an excited smile spread over his face. Mom was excited, too. "Oooooh, it's one of Ariel's poems. I can't wait to read it!" she said.

"Well, I can't wait to read it either. Do get me my spectacles please," dad requested. Everyone gathered around his chair and ooohed and aaahed at the photo of him carrying little me so carefully. Mom handed him his reading glasses.

"Look at his nervous smile," mom cheekily gestured at the photo. "I think he was afraid of dropping you!"

I explained to dad the reason I chose some of the clip arts I added to the poem (which you guys didn't get to see). And then we left him to read the poem alone.

He came out of the room to join us about five minutes later. "I'm going to laminate this. Where's your Mother's Day card? We are going to laminate that, too," he told my mom. Mom scuttled to retrieve her Mother's Day card I printed her that was proudly displayed near the ironing table since May 14, 2006.

Tucked away in a corner of his file cabinet, was a file full of the cards that we kids have given them throughout the years. Not a single card was missing nor thrown away. Each card was well-kept and preserved in pristine conditions. The precious ones were laminated.

No mushy words were exchanged. No "I love you's" were said. But from my written words, dad knew that I loved him. That's what matters. And that would have to be enough. For now.