After a day of agony.

Hey dad,

Remember that time when you walked in on me holding the razor blade, and I told you it was because I was trying to shave old school style? I've always wondered whether you ever figured out it wasn't. I remember that you usually left the food hanging on my bedroom doorknob, but for some reason this time you barged right in waving a bag of chips. I faked a smile and pretended there weren't tears down my face.

I don't think I ever thanked you for that. I wouldn't be the person I am if it weren't for you. I never told anyone this either, but that wasn't the only time I tried another "experiment". Being at home alone with big expectations to fill can do that to you. But each time I held the bottle, each time I picked up the razor blade, I thought of you. And each time, I put it all away, because as flawed, faulted, damaged as you were, you made me smile. You knew how to make me smile. And you made it a point to. You made me feel that I was awesome even when I wasn't the fastest kid in the race, and I hid away my record books because they were atrocious.

Maybe now it's my turn to check up on you. But I don't know how. I'm scared I can't do for you what you did all these years for me. I'm scared I can't be strong for you like you were for me. But I'll try.

 

 

I love you, dad.