Hey, Dad. Father. Pops. Daddy. This one goes out to you because I love you.

Where to begin, really? Maybe from the beginning - you're the reason I'm alive, after all. So maybe I should thank you for that, huh? Or maybe I should list other accomplishments of yours, of which I find motivation in every single day. Not accomplishments like the degrees hung on the wall because some tree pulp could never tell your life story. Not even the pixels of my laptop screen could, not truly, not like the small scars on your hands, or the creases in your forehead. The latter could be a simple product of age, but everything you have done lives on eternally, and I refuse to believe that it is a show of anything less than experience.

And how can I possibly think that? Because, sure, a lot of the stories I've heard from you, your sisters, and your brothers could be exaggerated during family parties to make all ears perk and mouths drop open in awe. They could just be stories brought forth to make eyes water or bring soreness to throats from laughing so extremely hard. Except I refuse to believe it because I know you. Will I know what it was like fifty years ago when you would play hockey in the streets with your friends, or the time you shattered your arm in high school football and had no control of your limb when jogging off of the field? No, of course not. Not truly. But it was your life, and it has been so full.

So full of excitement, for one. Playing in the streets and listening to great music that you still blast in the car. So full of family and friends. Siblings, your childhood friends, your parents, your future wife, and daughter. So full of the little and big things alike. Going to concerts, graduating with a Master's degree, taking the dog for a walk, playing golf in the mornings, and entering into a new job.

But that is going off-topic, out of context, to be evaluated for a different time, a different place. The fact of the matter is this: I love you a lot, Dad. It's something you've heard from me so many times before in a wide variety of tones with different meanings. Like the times I fall asleep watching a movie with you and you tell me to go to bed, so I mumble it, more asleep than awake. Or there are the times when I say it with a cheeky smile after some remark or pun that you dare to tell me is "weak." But there are other times that I mean it so much that it hurts, truly and wholly. This is one of those times. I love you.

Did you know that one of my first memories is from when I was probably three years old? You're sitting on one of the chairs in the living room, and I'm sitting on the rug at your feet. I don't remember why, but we're both laughing until we're breathless. Did you know that? Now you do. I love you.

I must admit, we're quite the dynamic duo. No one can match our wit put together, and that's a fact. There's also no one I'd rather binge Netflix with for hours upon hours, just enjoying our time together. There are peace and familiarity in it, and it's one of my favorite things to do at home. Did you know that Sundays in college were my most treasured days? Because it meant that I could watch my favorite show and talk to you about it after, and no matter how tired I was, you could make me smile. I love you.

Sure, there are times when I don't quite get you and I don't think that you get me. I can't even number the times you would find me crying about something and would tell me to get over it and talk to you when I was done, that I needed to be less sensitive in the world if I was ever going to be able to survive in it. Sometimes I think that I failed you there, that maybe I'm still too sensitive, but I hope that I've proven that maybe I have a chance after all. In any case, you should know - and I hope you already know - that you are one of my biggest inspirations. You have this way of taking on the world like no one else, and it can never kick you down because you're a fighter. I admire you. I love you.

I'm so lucky. So indescribably, inexplicably lucky. Who would have thought that they would be so gifted to have a father who would be willing to do anything for them, or support them in whatever they so decide to do in their life? Sometimes, admittedly, I think that I might have my head in the clouds, stuck in stories and revolving around words, when I'm missing out on what might matter most in terms of numbers and getting an edge for the true future. Other people aren't nearly as lucky as I am, and I'd be too far gone to not see and appreciate what - or, rather, who - has had my back this entire time. Eighteen years gone, written down in the record books as a success just because no one has been irreparably damaged yet. I love you.

I truly do. In a way that is not some store-brand card sort of love, but one that can not be fit into any other words. Other daughters don't have the type of relationship that we have, Dad, and I feel sorry for them. But I'm also so selfish because I'm glad that I'm the only one who can say that you're my dad, and only mine. I love you.

So Happy Father's Day, from your daughter who is so thankful for every word shared, every moment watching movies, every "weak" pun and joke, and time that you said that I could do it and would pat me on the back when I did. I love you.

From,

Pumpkin, Pooh, Bumblebee

Your Daughter