Lessons from my dad.

Dear Pinou,

For weeks now, I've been receiving emails from East Coast, Megabus and BritishAirways (how telling of my life that the emails I have subscribed to receive are all transport-related...) telling me to "treat my dad this Father's Day!" And so, I gather it is Father's Day here in England.

I have written about you in various places many times in the past 10 months; probably because I've been missing you more than I had before, so telling you all those things again seems repetitive. But I wanted to acknowledge today as a day of being thankful for being the daughter of a father. So I thought I would share some of the wisdom I learned from you; because they are only a few of the things that made you incredible. And I thought it would maybe make you proud to know I'd picked up on them.

Try harder, and when it doesn't work, try again. - It was 5th grade when you were called in to talk to my maths teacher. I was getting between 0.75 and 2 out of 5 in these tests we had every few days, and you knew it wasn't because my brain couldn't cope with it. You knew it was because I wasn't trying. To be fair, the teacher did too. And when you told me as much, it wasn't with disappointment or anger; just misunderstanding. "You are smart, Ana. You just seem to live through the law of minimum effort." And for once, that approach wasn't enough; so you told me to try a bit harder. You sat with me and explained theorems and logic to me. Thales, Pythagoras. How to measure the side of a building from its shadow. How to understand exponents and pi. You sat with me and were patient with me, and when you didn't know how to explain, you encouraged me to look things up. The following year I started getting A's in maths: I'd tried.

When you were ill and told you'd have only a few months to live, you pretty much laughed at them. "Screw that," you said, "I'm going to try to beat this." They tried a few treatments, and when they didn't work, you said "try something else." When they said, "no, sorry, we've run out of options." you still said "screw that, I'm going home." I may or may not have given you a stern talking-to in hospital to help with that, but you did. You came home. You tried.

So always try. And if you fail, try harder. Relatedly -

Do yourself proud. - When we started running track in PE, I told you I couldn't keep up. I remember you telling me you'd never been sporty, that I shouldn't worry; but that I should make myself proud by trying. And I did. I plugged in headphones, listened to music, and repeated to myself, "What would Buffy do?" and kept running. And when I realised I'd done it, I was proud. As were you.

I know your biggest fear was that in leaving, you'd be letting us down. I hope you know that you never, ever, not even for one second, did that. You made us so, so proud to call you Dad. Or, Pinou, because of course.

You taught me many other things; like how being cheerful will brighten other people's day. You taught me to be assertive and tell people when they are talking nonsense. From you, I have been learning, slowly but surely, to trust my voice.

"Trust your voice." - You told me that when you were ill; when I was ill; when we weren't talking properly anymore. When I was afraid of telling you how I felt. When I was afraid of loving you strongly because I thought I might break if you died. When I tried to take back the fact I was gay. "Trust your voice. Speak your truth." I've been finding my truth, dad; I've been finding who I am. And it is in those moments that I feel closest to you. In those moments where I catch glimpses of who I am becoming, and recognise you in me. From my appalling sense of direction - you should see me attempting to navigate my way around Leeds! - to my fierce love for those in my life. From my enthusiasm for science and my attraction to smart, intelligent, assertive people. From my inability to sing in tune, to the way I love the smell of coffee. From the number of books I seem to have acquired, to the way I apparently drive more confidently when I'm blasting Dire Straits from the stereo. From the way I ask sixty thousand questions, to the way I mess up - fabulously. From the way I interact with people I'm not related to, to the way I love our family.

Daddy, you taught me to love fiercely, unapologetically and enthusiastically. You taught me to trust who I was, who I would become. You taught me to be kind, to be gentle. You taught me to speak up. You taught me to ask questions, and suggest answers. You taught your eldest daughter to look out for her little sister, and boy, did she ever. You taught us to be patient, to get angry, to be ambitious. You taught us to be curious, to be inquisitive, to not fear doctors. You taught us the value of speaking up and the value of sitting back. You taught us to walk in the rain, and sing out of tune. You taught us to laugh hard and enjoy friendships. And, in the end, you taught us how to hold on tight to see what we must, and then, when the time comes, to let go.

Daddy, I learned so much from you, from watching you, from spending time with you. And in the same way as I hope you know that you made me - us - so proud to call you Daddy; I hope we make you proud too.

I'm pretty sure we do.

Happy Father's Day, Daddy. Pinou. You.

Thank you for the lessons. And thank you for loving us. It was an honour to call you Dad.

Love always,
Ana

Thankful.

My friend Viv offered a homily for a service held at MCC in Boston a few weeks back; and part of what she wrote (the full text being here), included this:

"When it becomes apparent, obvious that there is nothing we can do, that we are clearly beaten, there will still be God, creator, redeemer, sustainer, who is lifting up the lowly, who is pulling the mighty down from their throws, who feeds the hungry and sends the rich away empty. It may be unlikely, but it will be done."
And it resonated with me so much.

Sometimes, things go wrong. Sometimes, they are small things; like walking into a coffee table repeatedly, thereby bruising your shin; or spilling coffee down your front on your way to the office. Sometimes, slightly bigger things go wrong: your parent's job is threatened and you can do nothing about it. Sometimes, even bigger things go wrong. Sometimes, even though nothing major is wrong, you have panic attacks that wake you up three times a night and leave you paralysed and unable to function properly the next day. And sometimes, things you are really excited about just don't work out; like the possibility of a new relationship.

It is in those times that I am learning to lean on God, and remain thankful in the breakdown; to "spin it into a good thing", if you want. Because in the end, "there will still be God."

Spill coffee on yourself? Be thankful you had coffee to spill. Walked into a coffee table? You're a dork with the ability to walk. Mother's job is in turmoil? It's a chance for her to finally look into doing what she wants to do with her life, and make positive changes. A potential relationship doesn't work out because of reasons beyond your control? Be thankful that you got to feel butterflies and excitement and ecstatic about the possibility of falling in love with someone again; because -

"Love arrives exactly when love is supposed to, and love leaves exactly when love must. When love arrives, say, “Welcome. Make yourself comfortable.” If love leaves, ask her to leave the door open behind her. Turn off the music, listen to the quiet, whisper, “Thank you. Thank you for stopping by.” (Sarah Kay, 'When Love Arrives')

So I am trying so hard to be thankful; to give thanks. Because I have no reason to not be thankful of the life I have, of the life I have been building here. I know, still, that I am exactly where I am meant to be, even though I am not entirely sure why, yet. And so for that, I give thanks.

I am thankful for dates and kissing in train stations and excitement about people; even when it then doesn't work out. I am thankful for a job which allows me to talk to so many different people. I am thankful for work colleagues who offer me support when I need it. I am thankful for friendships made through work and out of work. I am thankful for my little flat, and sunny days, and rainy days, and friends who message me to invite me to their house when I'm having a rough time. I'm thankful for music and hugs. I am thankful for the ability to plot adventures to travel. I am thankful for school friends and university friends and friends I met online ten years ago who I am still friends with. I am thankful for my amazing family, who has gone through ups and downs and who is changing and growing.

I am thankful for growing up.