My Dad and I at Disneyland. 1982.
My Dad has always been there for me.
And ever since I was little, I wanted to do as he did.
Reading the Sunday paper with Pops. 1983.
He was my very best soccer coach.
Enthusiastic in knowing what I could do, he pushed me to be better.
Dad with his very own soccer clan. 1983.
He was my eternal cheerleader, never missing a game.
Me at 4 years old. 1985.
And then at 12. 1993.
And at 14, with my club coach, Dan. 1995.
And when I started to write letters to friends and family at a very young age, he applauded it. I would write every day, sometimes even 7-10 letters in a sitting. And he would place the postage on the envelope corners and deliver them to the mailbox daily.
Me writing a letter. 1989.
And then later, when I was in college, he was my go-to proofreader when I had to write complex papers on rhetoric and theory.
My high school graduation portrait. 2000.
When I graduated college, he did the same for my resumes and cover letters when I was applying for real world jobs. I could always rely on him for sound advice.
Four years ago, he encouraged me to start taking painting classes, seeing that I enjoyed the medium, but had little schooling or direction on the matter.
He saw potential in me that I did not see in myself.
And he again, just like with soccer and writing, pushed me to be better.
And I was better for it.
Lil’ Pops. By: Aimee Mandala. 2007.
So I thanked him with my first assignment, painting a portrait of him at age 6.
It was a surprise, and I gave it to him for Christmas.
And when it came time for me to marry the man I love, my Dad agreed that he was the man for me.
And I was honored to have him walk me down the aisle.
My wedding day. Sept. 25th, 2008.
And to this day, I come to him when I have a question that, on my own, I’m not sure how to answer. And he offers his advice, but believes in me that I will make the right decision on my own.
I thank him eternally for that.
And in the distant future, when he has moved on into the next world… I know that I can reflect back and know that he still believes in me, and will be cheering me on from heaven.
I love you Pops! Happy Father’s Day!
Watching My Pops Shave
As I sit on the very edge of the sink,
I watch my Pops shave.
I look up in wonderment at his rounded cloud-covered cheeks.
Holding one handful of white fluffy cream,
He applied with one hand
And shaved with the other.
Like skiers racing down a mountain slope,
His razor carved along his face,
Shhhr, as each stroke was completed.
The crisp smell of the shaving cream lingered in the air.
I looked up at his pink cheeks and his pale blue eyes
And I saw the sun.
One day, as I looked into the mirror,
My pigtails hanging weightlessly at my shoulders,
I noticed my own eyes were just like his.
I wanted to have those pink cheeks,
So I locked myself in the bathroom one morning.
Shhhr. Shhhr. Shhhr.
I came out of the bathroom with those coveted pink cheeks,
But no eyebrows and a lip dripping with blood.
So I went back to just watching,
Sitting on the edge of the sink,
And looking up at the sun.
[Poem by: Aimee Mandala © 2001.]
