52 years you have been on this earth, 18 of those years you have spent watching me grow up. I must say, you have done a pretty good job.
Things with me haven’t been easy, I know after the assult I shut you out, but I hope you know that it wasn’t anything personal.
We are like two peas in the same pod and we clash like mad. When we fight, we know how to dig below the belt and make each other feel like shit. But we don’t have any of those bad times.
We joke, yes they are mainly rude jokes, but we still laugh just as hard. We dance (when your hip isn’t playing up) and we sing like a pair of dying cats. Not once would I want that to change.
You are my favourite person. You have shaped me into a strong, kick ass, independant, sassy biatch and I thank you for that. You are the one I go to when I am having boy problems and you tell me the same thing “all boys my age think about is finding a new hole” pretty crude but I understand where you’re coming from.
You make me cry and you sometimes cry with me. You repeat yourself over and over and you fill my head with pointless crap, but I don’t complain – that much anyway – because I love spending time with you. I listen to every story you tell, I can even tell a few of them word for word.
You keep telling me that you’re not going to be around to see me have my first child, or to walk me down the aisle at my wedding, but you’re going to have too. I don’t want to share that experience with anyone but you, and my child has to be able to see what a nutter you are. Baby sitting duties are a must, okay?
Dad, you are my best friend, my favourite human, the most amazing person I will ever get to know. Thank you for 18 wonderful years.