ode to my dad.

That’s my dad.

Sitting on a rock on a cliff (which, if you know me at all, is exactly exactly EXACTLY my favourite thing to do. I am SOOOO my father’s daughter…) He’s in a place called Hermanus, in the Western Cape, in South Africa. He’s peering intently into the ocean, watching the Southern Right Whales.

Here’s some of our whale watching pics….

He’s a thinker. He’s analytical. He loves to be by himself. He can sit and read for hours. He lies on the couch listening to music in the dark. And he FEELS it. Through the core of his being. A philosopher. A ponderer….

He’s all the things that used to irritate me about myself.

All the things that as more of an adult I now embrace. Ironically.

This is my dad with me as bubs. I had blue eyes(um, what happened)…

I have always felt safe with my dad. He’s a protector. A provider. He’s the dad I wish I could take all the foster babies that I work with home too. He’d nurture and love them and they’d feel safe and secure. He’s honest. Strong. Vulnerable. Generous. Wise, and funny. Patient, and encouraging.

He and my mum used to happily endure watching me and my brother and friends (whoever I’d manage to rope into my games at any given moment) perform loooooong drawn out plays, or dance routines, or actions to songs by The Carpenters or Abba for hours on end. He never once gave the impression that it was a chore. He made me confident, and bold, and free…

He’d let us climb on the roof. He let us stalk him as he mowed the lawn on weekends. He’d make up stories at night about the ‘haves’ and the ‘have nots’, which I still remember vividly… He’d hold my hand on the couch when he told us my sister might die. And he sobbed with me when we lost my gran.

He’s forgiving. He’s gracious. For all that life has thrown at him, he is anchored, and strong, and whole.

And (this I LOVE) he sends me emails like this:

Enjoyed your stars blog…
Have you ever related the ‘spaces’ between stars to the ‘spaces’ between protons in our bodies – you know, cells, atoms, nucleus, protons (smallest conceivable parts in our body)
Some thoughts :
1. Quantum theory says that like the spaces between the stars, spaces make up well over 99.999% of our bodies – and that if all the spaces were removed from the 6.6 billion people on earth, what is left would be about the size of a sugar cube. (Talk about stars imploding …)
2. If you start at a point 1 metre above a plant leaf on earth, and travel upwards away from the plant, 10 to the power of 23 will get you to the outer limits of our Milky Way.
If you travel inwards towards the plant, and into it, 10 to the power of 16 is the furthest we can scientifically and creatively imagine at present! Proton land!
3. And just for fun, there are more connections in our human brain than there are stars in the Universe. Now that’s something to ponder on!
Mega love,

He always signs off “mega love, dad” and it still gets me. To this day. Because his love IS mega. And I know it.

My dad is so many things I can only hope that I may one day be…

I’m a blessed, and eternally grateful, daughter.

I MEGA love you dad.



17 thoughts on “ode to my dad.

  1. Huge lump in my throat, and tears pricking. Bet your Dad is having a good cry after reading this (*Hello, Jo’s Dad! What a wonderful Dad you are.*).

    Being able to tell people you love, especially your parents, *why* you love them and how they have impacted your life and world view is such a precious gift. For everyone who has a Dad still living, take Jo’s example and find your own way to do so.

    My Dad has been dead over 11 years now. I still write things for him, but I’d give so much to be able to hear his responses back. x

  2. How lucky are you and your dad? I never had that… but that’s ok. I can only hope that as a parent, my kids (who are teenagers now) grow up to not only love me, but really like me. Then I know I’ve started a whole new generation. But it sounds to me that you have stars in your eyes when you look at your dad, and when you look at those foster babies! xx Your dad did a great job!

  3. Your Dad sounds like my Dad without the gardening & wine but with whale watching and listening to music in the dark (which is something I love doing btw).
    Great post.

  4. And perhaps you can tell your Dad that there are as many people alive today as there have been in all of history. Which means every story that has ever been told throughout history, the same number of stories are being created and told right now, by living people.
    Your awesome blog is just one of those stories.
    Kinda makes a person smile to think about it.

  5. Wow. Mega love indeed.

    I know that scientists and so on would have you believe that mega equals one million.

    But can love be quantified, like atoms?

    I reckon your dad is mega cool.

    So’s my dad.

    You’re pretty mega, too.

  6. Pingback: Tweets that mention ode to my dad. « .the.world.is.your.oyster. -- Topsy.com

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