One Sentence about my Dad
His eyes are an ocean, and not only because of the way the glittering blue sparkles like sunlight but also because of the vastness – a vastness you can get lost in as he looks deep into your soul and his pupils grow wide, the pupils that are dark like a swarming abyss while they expand because pupils grow when looking at something they love, and his pupils have never looked at a person he didn’t love; so it wasn’t a surprise when an elderly woman at church came to me and said, “I think so highly of your father,” because her husband was dying and they were new in town and he was the one to drop everything and cover them in love and his prayers would crash around them in wave after wave just like the ocean in his eyes, and he ordered pizzas for the baseball team when their first-baseman died, not because he had the money but because he has a love that makes him move and it is a love that lets you know that you matter and that you have potential so when he looks at you and his pupils grow, the darkness might consume you but it would never scare you because it lets you know that he is serious – serious about his love like the seriousness of his tone when he calls and tells you to make sure the oven is turned off, because he thinks about your safety and he lets you know he cares, and just like the ocean, you might feel as though you’re drowning because it is so intense and so relentless, even when you messed up and you lied about the time you snuck out, but his pupils continue to expand in the ocean of his eyes and you have never felt so overwhelmed but you’ve never felt so held.