Damn, I Admire you Deeply

Damn, I Admire you Deeply

Look at that big man. Wait, no, I am not talking about his size. Well, maybe this has something to do with sizes as well. But I am talking about the dimensions of his heart. His big, big heart. His huge heart. A heart that speeds up whenever he sees something he loves falling, as when I fell down, a thousand times in my life actually. A heart big enough to keep me safe when I am afraid. A heart warm enough to take care of me when I am cold. A heart that always gets emotional with the silliest things, making tears fall down his beautiful face as he smiles of joy, of pity, of gratitude, or of all those feelings together at one single moment. Because that’s one of his talents: he can experience a whole bunch of sensations at the same time, travelling far far away from where he is, and then bringing back with him the best things out of that experience. Oh, but he has more talents, of course. He’s really strong. Not that I ever saw him carrying around a box full of stones, or a supermarket bag (he needs to improve that skill actually). No, but this man has an incredible strength. A superpower. He can be in the biggest of pains, and you’ll  never notice. Why’s that? Because that comes second to him. Because his doctor’s soul forbids him to look after himself if his family is around him. Or if his grief may break up a happy moment. And his face will show a smile while his heart projects the saddest of all emotional lines. And maybe that’s why I admire this man. This big, huge, amazing man. And it’s neither because he has great skills, nor because he’s great at his job. It’s not because he’s a beautiful, sweet, tender person. I love him because he makes bad jokes, and he doesn’t care. I love him because he knows how to calm me down in my darkest days. I admire him because he is not gifted, but he got all his wonderful talents by working hard and struggling in life. I trust him because he always gives the wisest of all advices (sports’ metaphors included). I need him, because part of who I am, is because of him. I love him because he is my dad, my wonderful dad, and no matter how old he gets, or how distant we are, I can hear his huge heart every time he hugs me. And I love that.


  1. Dear Paula!
    What a lucky father you have!
    For a daughter, to write such beautiful words about a dad, is a great pride. For a dad, read these words seems that you are on the right path. Anyway, because I know you and him, I can say without any doubt, that it's really true:


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