Dear Dad

The sermon series at my church this month has been about fathers. Fathers who smothered their kids with love and care, those who encouraged their kids to persue their dreams, those who were there physically and emotionally, those who had the line 'spare the rod spoil the child' tatooed across their eyeballs, those who just sat on 'their' couch and read the newspaper not caring about anything else, those who tried living their dreams through their kids and well, fathers who were just plain mean. In whatever category your father falls, one thing is for sure, our fathers did and still do shape our outcome... something about an apple not falling far from the tree.

Now my dad is kind of a hero to me. The reason I say kind of a hero is because I've seen him exhibit super human strength and I've seen Him so scared that if a girl I liked saw him, I'd quickly tell her a story of how I normally volunteer at this mental institution and every once in a while they let me take a patient home.... One time thieves had raided our house and as they were cutting through the window grills (read security bars), he thought they were in the kitchen. Like a psychotic man on steroids and red bull my dad charged towards the kitchen door with a metal pipe and actually stabbed the door. I kid you not. The metal pipe went through the wooden door like a shank through neck tissue. Then all that had to be ruined by this time he wanted to check out the TV antennae that was conviniently placed on the roof. He carefully set the ladder against the wall and started to climb. Three steps up and poor dad was shaking like a psychotic man who'd gone cold-turkey. He had to be convinced that he was only 12 inches high and that he was safe. (Don't worry dad, even Super Man is kind of a hero to me, wait till I whip out the kryptonite stashed under my bed).

So in a bid to appreciate my dad, I decided to write him a letter just to let him know a few things I had in mind:

Dear Dad,
Hope this letter finds you well. Over the years I've been thinking of all the cool things you ever did with us and from the bottom of my heart, thank you. Teaching to ride that bike without trainers, showing me how to drive, how to cook (like a man) and well how to be a responsible man.

Having said that, there's something that I've wanted to tell you. Remember that day you came from work and found your room in a mess? The 'kitambaa' covering that old wooden Grundig TV was on the floor, the place looked like it had been TP-ed and it looked like somethings were missing, well it wasn't me. While I appreciate the beating I got, one reason being I learnt a few valuable fighting moves that day, it was not me. After a thorough investigation, I found out that it was the cat. Yes, the cat you loved so much. She got in, had the time of her life then left; and that's the thanks she gave you for loving her so much! Life however, has a way of ensuring justice is done.

Remember that day you came from work and found your cat covered in vaseline? Well that was me. Though not intentionally, I take full credit for that. I guess you have earned the right to know how it happened. Small brother and I were playing catch with the big tub of vaseline, the one you guys bought and made sure it would last at least one school term. So while we were clearly breaking the world record for most consequtive catches, I finally tossed him a fierce one (what can I say, you taught me well...) when he couldn't catch it, it hit the ground, cracked on the side, pushing out a 'blade' of vaseline that cut across the room and onto the cat's back. We were young. Instead of picking the vaseline off the cat's back, we smeared it all over the cat's body. You gave a beating, but it was worth it. Your cat looked like the metal pipe you stubbed the door with!

This two memories have stuck in my head because they remind me how much you loved us (by how much you disciplined us :)). I appreciate you and well am old enough to say this... I love you. Hope Mppru (His cat) still loves you, wherever she is.

Love Your Son,

Ras.

On the real, appreciate you father today. He might have been the hero in your life or the villain; the important part is you wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for him. If you are a dad reading this post, I salute you. To all the dads out there, THANK YOU.