The Heusens

I love my dad so much.
I don't even know how to write this post because it's not going to do him justice.

My dad is incredibly loving and affectionate. He calls me a few times a week "to remind me how much he loves me." When I stayed with my parents during my maternity leave, he came home from work for lunch to hold Saya.

He is a man of integrity. He keeps his word and is always honest and ethical. He always tries to do the right thing.

I trust him absolutely and completely, always. I would follow my dad into hell if he told me it would be okay. Because if he said it would be okay, it would be.

He would do anything for his family. And I have never felt threatened because he has always protected me.

He is compassionate. He takes the responsibility of the world on his shoulders and never complains. He tries to shoulder others' burdens so they don't have to. I can say with complete confidence that if given the choice, my dad would experience any pain I have ever had, tenfold, so that I would not have to experience it myself.

He has complete confidence in me and my sister, in every way. To him, we are the best!

He is self-made. I am proud to say that my father came from having nothing and was able to provide a beautiful life for our family. He was not born with a silver spoon in his mouth and has earned everything he has worked for (even though he worked far harder and provided far more than he has ever needed to do).

He lives his life to the max. He takes advantage of every moment and makes the most of it. "Relaxing" is not in his vocabulary...unless it involves surfing or cycling or flying.

I respect his opinions, even if I don't agree with them.

Let me tell you a short story about my dad. It's not about a particularly remarkable event, but I have always remembered it as symbolic of who my dad is as a person and as a father.

I was in junior high and got in a huge fight with a girl at school. I don't even remember who the girl was, or what the fight was about...only that I was upset and had been crying all day. I didn't know what to do, except call my dad. These were the pre-cell phone days so I called him on the pay phone at lunch. I was about to burst into tears and tell him everything when the girl I'd gotten in the fight with walked up behind me to use the phone. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't tell my dad what had happened when she was right there behind me!

When my dad picked up the phone, I awkwardly said "Hi Daddy" in a pinched voice. My dad asked immediately if I was okay. I had no choice but to answer "yeah." He could tell that something was wrong, though. He asked, "Did something happen today?" I told him "yeah." When I didn't elaborate, he asked, "Is there someone there listening to you that you can't talk in front of?" I wanted to burst into grateful tears. How's that for dad telepathy? I think my voice cracked and I said "yeah." He then said all sorts of reassuring things about how we would talk all about it as soon as I got home from school. I don't remember the rest of the conversation. But I will always remember that day. It seems like an insignificant story, but I always remember it as emblematic of the many, many times when my dad came through for me (like he has always done), comforted me and reassured me.

Even in my toughest times, my dad always made me feel supported and that we could get through anything together, because he would always be on my team.

This is a short list of why I love my dad. And it doesn't even scratch the surface.

Posted by Ashlyn on Tuesday, October 28, 2008 at 1:02 AM | Permalink