Happy birthday, Dad.
I am suddenly feeling insecure about writing. There are so many things I want to tell you but I don’t think I have the skills good enough to encapsulate everything in this letter. But, what the heck. It’s your 60th birthday, let me give it a shot.
First, I want to say sorry for all the heartaches I caused you and mom. Between the two of you, you were always the one who had less to say. Whenever I come home with unimaginable problems, you would always sit behind mom saying too little a word to make me understand fully what’s going on in your head. You’d often look at me more with questions rather than judgments. That look was you trying to understand me and my struggles. Yet, you would always be the first one by my side when I need some rescuing. From a simple doctor’s check up to a trouble in school, you have always been there. And always… always the first one to make me laugh.