I have an amazing dad. He grew up in a tough homelife (to put it nicely), but he made sure that my sister and I never had to deal with any of the garbage that he did. He loved us and we knew it. He always provided for our family, but he made sure that we knew that we came first. He was always at our games “cheering” (my dad had more red cards during my soccer career than I did – and he never played), and taught us so much about Christian service. And we always knew that he had our backs – that he was on our side no matter what.

He has also taught me more than I could ever thank him for. He loves my mom and has always modeled how important a marriage is – and how to be a good husband. He has modeled how important it is to be involved in your childrens’ lives. He has modeled an amazing work ethic and how to balance that with the need to have fun with your family. And he has taught me how to do a lot of things. I only hope that I can make my boys feel as important to me and that I can have as big an impact in their lives.

However, my dad was (and is) a man of few words. The strong silent type. He was the dad that would only tell you something once. If you didn’t listen, it was on you, and he wasn’t going to tell you again unless you asked. He didn’t do “I told you sos” or anything like that. But I learned that when my dad spoke, it was pretty important to listen. There were things that my dad never really said though. For some reason, my dad and I never really say I love you to each other.

I have absoultely no doubt that my dad loves me. He has spent a lifetime showing me that he does. It is probably one of the many quirks of growing up in a different generation with a rough home life, but that doesn’t make it any less weird. I always tell my mom that I love her, but never my dad. So yesterday, I told my dad that I love him.

We celebrated all of the May family birthdays last night by going to eat some delicious Korean BBQ, then it was back to my parents’ house for dessert and presents. We had all of the usual family fun. And then it was time to go. I hugged my mom, told her thanks for dinner and the presents, and that I loved her. Then I walked over to my dad, and said told him thanks and I added an “I love you” just before walking out the door.

Takeaway

I spent a good bit of time thinking of this today. It was way more nerve racking than it should have been. This is my dad who I know loves me. He’s not going to mind me saying, “I love you.” But it is one of those things that is hard to do – but I am glad that I did. I now have victory over those three little words with my dad and I can use them with him again. No more wondering why we don’t ever say it… I am just going to tell my dad that I love him from now on.