It’s my dad’s birthday today. Which, it doesn’t really matter, for he has been there for me always, irrespective of the boundaries of time or space.
Happy birthday. Given that it is already late evening now, I should have perhaps wished you sooner. But this isn’t anything unusual, isn’t it? We have never really spoken much; words definitely don’t define the extent of our relationship.
I’ve wondered, a lot of times, when I was but a child, why, we don’t ever have real meaningful conversations. Philosophies of life kind of talks. Why conversations were mostly limited to the need of the moment. Later, I was told, ‘Dad isn’t an emotive person. He doesn’t really know how to express.’ How is a person then supposed to talk, I wondered. There were many questions dad, but no one to answer. There were many stories too, but no one to tell to. Being an ambivert myself, I have been a victim of my moods as well.
I understand I’m not the daughter you would like me to be (read obedient, traditional, religious, etc). I realise there might not have been a lot of moments for you in which to feel proud of me. We do not meet at the same plane, either. But what I realise when I look back upon my 19 years is that you have been ready to invest the years in me, being there, silently, as I fall, learn, fail, and even repeat some mistakes. For that, I’ll be ever grateful. For me, you have slogged, fought, sacrificed.
I do not promise to change. I might not get moulded to fit into the frame you’ve in your mind for your daughter. But it doesn’t matter, really.
On this day, I wish for you to keep growing in your mind, to keep adding to the results that years of experience and Grandpa Time must’ve given you. I hope that one day, we’ll both be ready to meet on an even field. On that day, in a place which will be beyond right and wrong, good and bad, unshackled by the constraints of the society, we’ll talk freely…and I’ll tell you how important you are to me. That, and that I love you.
Your only daughter.