On the eve of Father's Day, many emotions are experienced by all. Some sadness as they remember their dads and others in anger as they don't remember or choose to forget. Here in the Jonesy household I was blessed and fortunate to have an amazing dad, one I can never appreciate more or show enough gratitude for the life he gave and for creating the person I am today. I can't really buy him anything, because he can go out and get whatever he wants or needs. I know I have shared the greatness of this man on my blog before, but tonight it's just remembering my dad as MY DAD. When I looked up the word "Father" in the dictionary I got the following:
1. Father
a. A male person whose sperm unites with an egg, resulting in the conception of a child.
b. A man who adopts a child.
c. A man who raises a child.
When you look up Father in Nina's heart this is the definition you find:
a. A male person who instills confidence into their child.
b. A man who takes care of his family, always there, always there.
c. A man who will give their life for their own.

That is Paul Dictos. Whenever I have any new news, whether good or bad, there is one person I call first. My dad will either rejoice with me, or he will sing to me to lift my spirits up. There is something special about a dad who loves when you love, rejoices with a happy dance when you're happy, and weeps with you when you are saddened by life. I used to drive down to Calwa to do my initial student teaching and I would come home and share the bilingual stories of my day. And to this day, my dad will call me when he passes Calwa and remembers my time there. And we laugh and reminisce of those days. As a child I remember getting scratchy kisses when my dad came home on late nights. I would be dead asleep, but would wake up with that 5 o'clock shadow kiss and in the morning a little red rash on my face reminding me someone loves me. There were mornings in the Dictos home where after ironing 15 shirts each (my sissy and I, not my brother, he was the second man of the house) if they were not done perfectly there would be my dad at 6am in his whity tighties and the incorrectly ironed shirt. We would get a mini lesson on how to iron properly. Ahh...memories. I could go on as many of you probably can as well, of all those times we have had with our dads. I am a perfectionist because of my dad. I have a temper, because of my dad. I have a round face because of my dad. I am passionate because of my dad. I am confident, because I knew growing up that I was beautiful, "the best!", and able to do anything I put my mind to...because my dad told me that everyday and believed it. He believed it so much that he brought home every Ivy League college application and I believed it as I filled them all out and sent them! He believed it as I ran 7 times for student body office and lost every time! He believed it as I received flowers on the first day of my teaching job every year until I stopped. He believes it every time he picks up that phone and we chat about our day, our lives, our tribulations...everyday, multiple times a day. Not a day goes by where I haven't talked to my dad...not a day. I love you dad, more than words on a paper, more than any gift, more than any action, more than life.  Happy Father's Day to the man I admire, love, and cherish for all the things you have made me to be and will be...Ninaki


Sophie said…
sissy you have mastered into words yet again what our dad means to you and our family....love the story and the memories...thanks for the "happy tears"

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