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It was a rather windy summer afternoon. My dad and I were on the street outside of our house in Canada. He had just bought me a pink bicycle and Barbie helmet from a garage sale. The bike was beautiful. Just how I dreamed it would be: a basket in front, flowers on the handles, and shiny stars on the bottom. He told me that I didn’t need training wheels, I was brave and smart enough to learn without them.

“Are you ready?” Papa asked as he positioned me on the seat.
”I think so… but I’m not sure, what if I fall?” I replied, somewhat nervous.
“I’ll hold you until you can balance. But if you still fall, remember to fall on your butt. Then stand up, rub off the dirt and pick yourself up again.” He winked then held the bike as I pedaled along, until I was finally able to balance.
And then I was off, going the distance…”Look Dad! Look! I’m doing it!!!”

Until… Uh-oh… I lost control and landed on the pavement. Luckily, no major boo-boos. And just as my dad told me: I stood up, wiped off the dirt and rode my bike again.

He smiled as he said, “See Pat, you can do absolutely anything you THINK you can do. Don’t be afraid to fall, you’ll learn. And I’ll always be here just in case.”

I was the youngest among five in the family and I would wonder if he’d ever get tired of me. After having to raise FOUR kids, teach them how to ride a bike, wouldn’t it be boring to have to do it a fifth time? If my dad was bored, he definitely didn’t show it. He seemed just as excited and happy as ever.

My Family
I will never forget those strong memories. My dad always taught me important lessons in simple ways. He wasn’t always direct (as most men aren’t) in saying “I love you.” He preferred showing it.

So I’ll take a cue from him. Rather than gush about all the mushy stuff (minus the cheese, corn, & string music), I’ll end with a Thank You. I love you Papa. Happy Father’s day!!

(Not exactly biking) My dad and I would ski together all the time.

“Certain is it that there is no kind of affection so purely angelic as of a father to a daughter. In love to our wives there is desire; to our sons, ambition; but to our daughters there is something which there are no words to express.” —Joseph Addison

Soundtrack to this blog: “Go the Distance” by Michael Bolton—one of my dad’s favorite

Sorry for the delay,
Patricia

P.S.
On a sad note:
On Sunday, Lolo Peping , my grand uncle passed away.
Last Friday, Tim Russert, my favorite journalist passed away.
And Last Thursday, Rosa, the grandmother of my close friend, Bea, passed away.