happy father's day

notes on hfd!

I know Mother’s Day falls on the first Sunday of every May, but I often forget when Father’s Day is. Is it the first Saturday of March or the second Sunday of June? It is not until an all too familiar promotional email reminding me to buy a gift for my father that I remember. I don’t quite know what gift I would buy. Perhaps a Parker pen or new frames from Warby Parker. Or maybe I’d buy a wallet and be cliché, if I got the chance.

In the past few years, I have been trying to piece together the person he was from different people, from his writings, from things I overhear, and from things I finally hear now, as the embarrassment of grief gives way to a deep curiosity about who he really was.

From what I gather, he was a man of simple gestures and profound love. He did not move mountains for me, although I imagine he would have if I had asked. But he paused in the middle of nowhere just so I could take a picture in a sunflower field. He taught me how to sketch a helicopter for a school drawing competition and stayed up with me while I painted. I came first, and they featured me in the newspaper. He kept those clippings and even made photocopies. He created a safe space for my dissent.

But one of my favourite things and is a lesson I go back to every time is the one I discovered while riffling through old paraphernalia and found the book Appa had published years ago. In the preface, his hesitant words read, “Although I was somewhat discouraged in writing due to inexperience, I have undertaken this work with the belief that even if there are mistakes in the writing, they will be accepted with kindness.”

In knowing that he did what he wanted anyway, and in knowing he had faith in the kindness of the world, I find my own reason to write. His efforts, his very being, his love, all shaped the contours of my understanding and aspirations in the short time we had together.

happy father’s day :)