An Open Letter to my Loving Father

Dad,

I remember the first English sentence you taught me when I was a kid. The memory is quite strong to me.

It was about love. We were in our first house in Viamão – my favourite! –, in our living room with walls painted in lime green (a trendy color at that time), and you spoke it to me, pointing that it was in English:

“I love my life because my life is you.”

In order to memorise, I repeated it a couple of times and wrote it in a white balloon I was playing with. At that moment, we were both unaware of the importance of what had happened: you were encouraging me, still pretty young, to assimilate the basic structure of an English sentence and a few important words of this language I’d end up using very often for the rest of my life.

Unpretentious moment, but that sums up our far-from-perfect-but-ours relationship. You, always showing me the path despite the limited sources (things you’ve learned for yourself, mostly); me, always pushing myself to get the most out of your guidance.

My childhood memories are full of you. The first English speaker, IT-electronics-electrical technician, designer, painter, (Quake 3 Arena) gamer, programmer, movies fan, music-addicted, critic, and road biker I’ve met.

Having grown up by the side of a curious person with such a creative mind, able to make everything out of the absolute nothing and humbly teach anyone anything, is a privilege, and I’d like to thank you for that. I’m proud of the fact that, over time, we could even grow together and get to know better versions of ourselves.

In the end, I believe my favourite traits and achievements are all related to you somehow. My ability to push myself forward no matter what, my first computer, my first job, my first road bike, my hyperbolic passion for my stuff, and even my moving to Berlin. You’ve played a role in all of them.

(By the way, the reason I cried in your arms minutes before flying to Berlin is something I honestly bet no one is able to understand. I’d say it came from an eventual awareness of the why I was there and why things were leading to that way. It was all you. My bridge to computers. My bridge to the world.)

I feel like a little piece of you, wondering whether I’ll ever make you as proud as I should before you leave me.

Will you ever leave me, though? On second thought, I reckon you never will.

Happy Father’s Day!

Proud of you, who did completely different from your father,

Your daughter,
Diéssica