Father-daughter Relationship: A Touching Letter

She was born yesterday and in a few hours she is going to university. Yesterday they told me I was going to be a father, a second later she was crawling, and moments later she had her first driving lesson. Yesterday she looked at us as if we were gods. Today she sees us as people who really know every single one of her flaws. While all this was happening, only one night passed. A night where I sat thinking, bewildered, watching her grow….

I’ve watched her grow intermittently, because sometimes I had to go to work. At other times, her siblings needed me, my siblings, friends, parents, or her mother. Sometimes I needed myself. I came home late and sometimes I couldn’t make up a story. In this way she left behind the age of made-up stories and began to experience how reality can be infinitely more cruel and beautiful.

A Father’s Hope

Yesterday I had mountains of hope for her. Hope that was mine alone, about which she had said nothing. She only cried for the bottle when she was thirsty. She put everything she found in her mouth when she was hungry. Today I still have my hopes, but she also has her own hopes and I have to accept that. It’s an all-night process.

I would have liked her to become a lawyer. I believe they have a good life. I think they have an important profession, that their education gives them a better sense of justice than most mortals. But she prefers to be a journalist.

However, she does not want to become a TV journalist. She wants to become one of the anonymous journalists. Someone who travels and reports on wars and narrates important stories. That worries me so much that sometimes I can’t sleep. Meanwhile, she looks at me with the face of someone who has fallen in love with someone he just met. As a father, this look – her look – also makes me proud.

Giving up control

As a father, it was not easy to hand over the reins. I still see her as much younger than she is, smaller and more vulnerable, impressionable and innocent. I’ve seen her walk to the edge of a precipice with all the determination in the world, and I’ve had to let her do it. As much as I wish I could have been her best teacher, there are lessons only life can teach you. There are a few that you should learn along with others.

She looks so beautiful when she sleeps. I don’t know if she knows, but she’s the most beautiful girl in the world. I’ve told her this many times and she laughs at it, only to finally answer with a ‘Dad-dad!’ (don’t embarrass me).

Her struggle against her own body is hard to understand. It’s hard to bring back the memories of when it was so important to me what other kids thought of me. It’s hard to believe that memories will help me understand. This process also makes me nostalgic. It brings tears to my eyes.

I remember the fear I felt when I had to go to school in that horrible jacket. That jacket my mother had made for me during her boredom moments, and it itched terribly. I don’t know what horrible coat I made my daughter wear. Maybe there are several. Maybe when I was teaching her music, until her indifference to music shattered my dream. I couldn’t force her to love it. She struggled with it before my eyes and I felt better thinking it was good for her.

I have realized….

If I could start over, I don’t think I’d let you do so many things that “were right for you.” At least not from the sidelines. I would share the experiences with you. I wish I’d realized you watched the ball when you were little and played soccer with you. I would have liked to be less alert to dangers and more alert to dreams. I shouldn’t have been home late so often. I wish I had played with you more before you gave me up and found other kids to play with.

I should have known you were quite capable of putting on a coat when you were cold. That you would eat yourself if you were hungry. These were the needs you had in the beginning, but not anymore. What you needed later on was encouragement for the projects you started. You wanted answers to your questions and the company of someone who wasn’t boss. You needed support, comfort and inspiration. Maybe that was part of the role I played, maybe that’s part of my fatherhood.

They say emotions are magical…. and that people have so many emotions that we can experience more than one at a time. I’m sorry we can’t get back the time we didn’t spend together. I assume all parents feel this way at some point, but that doesn’t make me feel any better.

However, what makes me feel better is what I see now. I see you fighting your own fight in an honest way. That makes me proud. However right or wrong they may be, you have made your own choices and you have found your passion. When I watched you grow, I finally understood that I wanted an easy life for you. What you want for yourself is a happy life. Now I just hope you find it and share it with me.

PS As you can see, today I am both a journalist and a father. I want to close this article and sign it with you over lunch.