Sunday, June 19, 2011

Happy Father's Day Pops

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.]


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