My dad loves me in his way. He just doesn’t always know how to show it, so instead, he teaches me lessons every time we talk—even when I was little. As I’ve grown older, and as he has aged into his 80s, I’ve come to appreciate him more for who he is. I know he won’t change, but that doesn’t mean I can’t find new ways to connect with him. This letter idea seems like a good try.
The Gift Dilemma: What to Get an 81-Year-Old Dad?
His 81st birthday is in three days, and at first, I had no idea what to get him. What do you give a man who never seems to need anything? The usual gifts—books, gadgets, something practical—felt impersonal. Then, I stumbled upon this little treasure: Letters to My Dad, a set of prompted letters meant to be written, sealed, and opened at a later time.
Why a Letter Instead of a Traditional Gift?
It felt like the perfect gift—not because my dad is the sentimental type (he’s definitely not), but because it gave me a way to say things I don’t always get to say out loud. Writing has always been easier for me than speaking when it comes to emotions. And with this, I could express gratitude, share memories, and maybe, just maybe, bridge some of the distance that has always existed between us.
Writing the Letter: A Reflection on Our Relationship
So I sat down and started writing. At first, it felt a little awkward. What do you say to a father who has always been a pillar but not necessarily a warm embrace? But as I started thinking of various ideas, something unexpected happened—I found myself remembering moments of quiet connection, of lessons learned, of his steady presence in my life. The time he helped me with math homework late at night. The way he taught me to be independent, to think critically, to hold myself to high standards. The sacrifices he made without ever drawing attention to them.
A Lesson from My Dad: The Birds in the Tree
One of the prompts encouraged me to share a meaningful lesson he taught me, so I wrote him this letter. But instead of sending it in English, I used ChatGPT to translate it into Chinese before sending it to him. I knew it would mean more to him that way.
Dad,
One of my earliest memories of you is from when I was four years old. We were standing outside our tiny one-room apartment in the countryside of China, at the high school where you worked. Not far from our door was a big tree. You pointed at it and asked me, “If there are ten birds in that tree and I shoot one, how many are left?”
I grinned, thinking it was such an easy math question, and confidently answered, “Nine!” I waited, expecting you to praise me.
But instead, you smiled and said, “No, there will be no birds left.”
I stared at you, confused. Then you chuckled and explained, “If I shoot one bird, the rest will fly away.”
I remember feeling embarrassed—I hadn’t even considered that. I was so focused on the numbers that I missed the bigger picture.
That moment stuck with me. From you, I learned the importance of thinking beyond theory, of being practical and seeing the full context of a situation. It’s a lesson I carry with me every day in my work and when I coach others.
I just wanted you to know—while I may not always seem like I’m listening, I remember so many of the lessons you’ve taught me since I was little.
I love you, Dad. Happy Birthday.
The Power of Words: A Different Approach to Connection
I included this letter to show an example of how easy it can be to write a letter and make it meaningful for my dad and for me. He may not be the most expressive, but I know he loves me deeply in his own way. And I love him in my own way too.
We often put so much effort into connecting with difficult personalities in our professional lives, finding ways to collaborate, understand, and navigate challenges. But do we put that same energy into our personal relationships, the ones that truly matter the most? This experience reminded me that I need to make that effort—not just for my dad, but for all the relationships that shape my life.
This letter is my way of meeting him where he is, of honoring the way he’s shaped me, and of trying—always—to be a little closer to him. It’s a small step, but meaningful connections often start that way.
Happy 81st, Dad.