I don’t always say it.
Maybe I don’t know how.
But I’ve been carrying this thank you
in my chest for longer than you know.

Thank you
for being the one who stays,
even when I don’t make it easy.
Even when I act like I don’t notice.
Even when the world feels too heavy
for both of us.

You’ve been here,
steady, solid,
not needing credit,
not asking for attention,
just here.
And I don’t know if you realize
what that’s meant to me.

We don’t have soft words all the time.
We throw jokes.
We call each other names.
You sneak me snacks when no one’s watching.
And I do notice.
Even when I don’t say it,
I notice.

Because love isn’t just the stuff people post online,
or the big words everyone throws around.
It’s this.
It’s you showing up
when you’re tired,
when you don’t have to,
when you could’ve given less but didn’t.

I don’t tell you enough,
but I’m proud you’re my dad.
Not because of the word “dad,”
but because of the way you live,
the way you give,
the way you love.

Thank you for the things you said,
and for the things you didn’t have to say,
because you showed me instead.

I love you,
in all the ways I say it,
and in all the ways I don’t.

Always have.
Always will.