27/01/2025
My dad doesn't take me on jet skis or gifts me a two way ticket for a trip to Mumbai to celebrate my birthday. He doesn't write long epistles or talk speeches expressing his love for me or how I first granted him the gift of fatherhood.
Instead, he buys me suya, with plenty pepper by the way- lol, then in his own way of showing that he loves me, he asks me if I went to work, and if I've eaten the fufu left me for dinner, if I hear what’s happening in the country today or if they don't give me breaks at the office. Oh did I mention he still shares his protein? No matter how big the one in my soup may be, he calls us; his children, by our names and gives us a piece each- until the end of time.
My dad is my dad, no one else can be him, no one can do it like him. With perhaps flawed perfection and sometimes a longing so deep to simply be a father the best way he knows, my dad remains my dad. And though by the manual of the world, other children may be privileged to have 'more' in that department, my dad remains my dad.
He's a great example that no matter how you were taught to be a parent (or not), you can always choose love; to feel and protect, and it doesn't have to be perfect, it just has to be you- my dad. I love you my papa, God bless you. ❤️
