I’ve always carried your name
like a shield,
a badge that said,
I am my father’s daughter.
In my eyes, you could do no wrong,
and if they ever questioned you—
your strength, your heart,
your integrity—
I would burn with anger,
a rage too big for my small hands to hold.

You were my hero, my protector,
the one who stood tall when others would fall.
I was proud, so proud to be yours,
to walk with your shadow behind me,
to know that I was blessed,
not just lucky,
but chosen,
to have a father like you,
a love that so many
would never know,
a love that others
could only dream of.

And yes, I’ve tested you—
tested your patience,
pushed your limits
like a child who didn’t know when to stop.
But you never showed it,
never let the cracks of frustration show.
You kept your calm,
even when I saw
the faint lines of exhaustion
creeping into your eyes.

I know,
I’ve disappointed you.
You don’t say it,
but I feel it
in the silence,
in the moments when I tried so hard,
but it wasn’t enough.
Your complaints about
the things I left undone,
the duties unfinished,
the expectations unmet.

You expected more from me,
and I wanted to give it,
wanted to be that perfect daughter
you could hold up to the world
and say,
"She’s mine. Look at what she’s become."
But sometimes,
my best wasn’t enough,
and I could see the flicker of frustration
in your eyes,
hear it in the tone of your voice,
even when you didn’t mean to.

I know you didn’t mean to.

Still, I love you.
Even when your words
cut deeper than you intended,
when they left marks
that no one could see,
I loved you,
and I love you still.
When you pointed at the mistakes,
not the progress,
I loved you.
When you told me
what I could have done better
instead of what I did right,
I loved you.

Every harsh word
was another scar,
but still,
my heart clung to you
with every bit of its strength.
Even when the weight of disappointment
became too heavy to carry,
I bore it,
because you were my father,
and in spite of all that,
I loved you still.

It hurt, sometimes more than I could say.
Your frustration,
your anger,
it dug deep,
carved out places in me
I didn’t know existed.
Places where I held my breath,
waiting for your approval,
only to be met with silence
or a reminder
of what I still hadn’t done.

But still, I love you.
I always have.

I don’t blame you
for the way I struggle now,
for the way I sometimes feel distant,
cut off from the world,
unable to connect the way others do.
I don’t hold you responsible
for the way I’ve learned
to hide my feelings,
to bury them deep
so no one can see.

It wasn’t your fault.
It never was.

You gave me what you knew,
what you could,
and I took it,
even when it left me wondering
if I was enough.

But you were always enough for me.
Even in your imperfections,
you were perfect in my eyes.
I never needed you to be more
than what you were—
my father,
the one who loved me,
even when it felt
like your love was buried
beneath layers of expectations.

I know you blame yourself sometimes.
I can see it in the way
you look at me,
like you wonder
if you’ve done right by me,
if you gave enough,
loved enough,
protected enough.

But you did.

Even when your words
made me feel small,
even when I doubted myself
because I thought
I could never reach the bar
you set so high,
I knew,
deep down,
that you loved me.

And still,
I love you.

You are my knight,
my protector,
my shield against the world’s harshness.
You are the reason I push myself,
the reason I strive to be more,
to be better,
because I wanted to make you proud.

I know I’ve failed sometimes.
I know I’ve fallen short
of what you hoped for me.
But I’m still here,
and I’m still yours,
and I still love you,
more than I could ever say.

You are not perfect,
but you were perfect for me.
And I don’t blame you,
not for the parts of me
that feel broken,
not for the parts of me
that struggle to feel.

You did your best,
and that’s all I ever needed.

I love you,
always have,
always will.

Because in my eyes,
you are still the hero,
the father,
the man I looked up to
when I was small
and didn’t know what the world could do.

You are still my role model,
my protector,
my guide through the storms.
And no matter how hard it gets,
no matter what words have passed
between us,
I will always be your daughter,
and you will always be my father.

I just hope you know
that even when it hurt,
even when the scars you left
ran deeper than you meant them to,
I loved you,
and I always will.

Because in the end,
that’s what matters.
Not the pain,
not the mistakes,
but the love
that has always been there,
the love you gave,
the love I hold
even when it’s hard to feel.

I love you,
nonetheless.