Dear dad, (Anonymous letter 2)

Author’s note: I have recently started the concept of ‘anonymous letters’ wherein I post letters on my blog on your behalf addressed to whomsoever you choose to write it for. These letters may be addressed to anyone, someone deceased, a celebrity, an ex, a family member etc. If you would like me to post on behalf of you, I would gladly help out with conveying them. All you have to do is either inbox or mail me your letters and let me know who it is addressed to and your name will obviously not be revealed unless you choose otherwise. You can mail them to me at
The following letter is a part of this project.

There are so many things I’ve wanted to tell you,
Words left unsaid, a lingering silence
A lump that settles in my throat,
And I finally paint it in ink.

Remember the day I came back home from school?
Bawling my eyes out, for kids can be mean and their words sharp as knives.
You sat me down on your lap,
Taught me how to take it all in stride.

Remember the day when i asked you why all girls love dolls?
You bought me my first ever doll,
Even though I hadn’t asked for one,
And I knew it wasn’t something we could afford back then.

Remember the day when I felt like I fit nowhere?
You told me that the reason I couldn’t was
For your little angel was too good for them all,
And there was no need for me to change the way I was.

Remember the time when I hid my examination papers?
For I had barely passed in a subject, dear to our entire family.
Ashamed and afraid, I had finally mustered my courage
All you did was ask me to work a lil’ harder.

You taught me,
How to face all the problems life threw;
With my head held high
And learn all there was to, from all my mistakes.

Oh how I wish to just tell you all of this myself
To just hug you real tight
And let you know how much I love you,
How you are my idol and inspiration.

But alas, like father like daughter
We both do not showcase our emotions
Or display our affection,
Our bond is one braided in words that does not require the strands of language.

Yours loving,
Daughter, who couldn’t say it out loud.

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