Hey Dad,
Remember when I was five and insisted I could fly if I flapped my arms hard enough?
You didn’t laugh. You just looked me in the eye and said, “Then you’d better practice.”
And that’s what I did for weeks.

This Father’s Day, I don’t want to say “thank you” the usual way. I want to remember. Together.

Because in a world moving too fast, it's the slowest memories, the quiet glances, the steady hands, the unsaid words , that stay with us the longest. So here’s a little rewind to the moments that really matter. 

 

Remember the Wobble Before the Ride?

The first time I rode a bike without training wheels, you held on tighter than I did. I didn’t realize when you let go  and that moment taught me something much bigger than balance. You showed me what trust looks like: standing behind quietly while I tried, stumbled, and eventually flew.

 

Remember the Days You Came Home Tired, But Still Showed Up?

I didn’t know it then, but I see it now. The long work hours, the heavy eyes, the unpaid overtime of being dad.
You didn’t just provide. You were present.
That meant more than anything a paycheck could buy.

 

 

Remember Teaching Me to Drive?

You were calm. Too calm. Like a monk who’d accepted his fate. And when I panicked at the roundabout, you didn’t yell, you just reached for the gear, smiled, and said, “We’ll get there.” I learned more than road rules that day. I learned how to stay steady when life jerks the wheel.

 

 

Remember When You Said I’m Proud of You?

Maybe not with those exact words. Maybe it was, “You handled that well.” Or, “You’ve grown up.” But I heard it. I felt it. And every time you showed up — at my recital, my broken heart, or my job interview prep, I knew I had my biggest cheerleader in the room.

 

Dads Don’t Always Say It, They Show It.

You never needed big speeches. Your way was checking if I had enough petrol in the car, staying up when I was out late, and pretending not to cry when I moved out. You didn’t have to say “I love you” — you were love in action.

So Dad, This Father’s Day…

I just wanted to say that I remember.

The big things. The little things. The “just another day” things that became the best parts of my growing up. You didn’t do it for credit or praise. But here it is anyway:

Thank you. For every moment that mattered. For being there, always — even when I didn’t notice.