Beauty in a person is stereotypically though as a young, petite woman whose smile lights up a room and eyes hold the stars. But, to me, beauty in a person is a papa. The man who provided for your parent, who showed them how to love, respect and work hard.
Beauty in a papa is how aware he is. A papa is and always will be there for you. Whether or not he specifically asks the question himself, he will hear your answer and he will remember. A papa takes everything in.
My papa is always watching us, he always knows. His blue eyes constantly scan a room. He doesn't say much, it's hard for him to, but he observes and every now and then he throws in a one-liner which brings the room to tears.
Beauty in a papa is how strong he is. No matter what, papa's hold their heads high. I swear I have never seen my papa's smile or his strength falter, no matter what. A papa is a vital role in a family, a backbone, and I bet it feels like the world is on his shoulders some day. But you'd never know it.
My papa is so strong. It wouldn't be healthy to ignore that the eighty-five-year-old man is getting old. He's been in and out of the hospital, had pneumonia more than once and other things that I cannot remember the name of. But whenever I see him, hospital or not, his cheeks curl up the same way my father's do, the same way my brother's do and the same way mine do. He is stubborn. He is strong. He is my beauty in a place where other's overlook it.
Beauty in a papa is how much love he has to give. A papa, in a way, is like an extra dad. They're just a super dad, more fun and taking on this role for his own kids and his grandkids. Papa's don't always express their love in expected ways or in the same ways. One may tease about boyfriends, another may give you money whenever you see him, or something else.
My papa expresses his love in his hugs. One of my favorite parts of seeing my grandparents is walking into the living room to see my papa on his recliner facing the TV under the family portraits in the back left corner of the living room. Every time he sees someone walk in, he does his best to sit up straight and greet them. It's harder for him to do it now. He doesn't move like he used to, but his hugs are the same. Even from his spot in the leather recliner, he takes one hand between the two of you and squeezes it as tight as he can and then leans in to put his other around you as he places a kiss on your cheek. I take back it is one of my favorite parts, it is my favorite.
Beauty in a papa is every aspect of him. Every inch of his face and every layer of his humor. Nothing could ever communicate the impact he has had on his family.
And as far as my papa? Well, his beauty cannot be fully put into words because he is my papa, the one person I am most thankful for.
