Sama Farrag Fathers are often the hardest people to write about. Not because there is too little to say, but because there is simply too much. How do you condense decades of love, sacrifice, guidance, and shared history into a few paragraphs? How do you capture the person who helped shape your understanding of the world – and yourself?
This Father’s Day, we’ve done exactly that. The result is a collection of letters that are deeply personal yet universally familiar, filled with memories of car rides, life lessons, subtle acts of devotion, and the everyday moments that often go unnoticed until we stop to reflect on them. Together, they form a portrait of fatherhood in all its complexity: steadfast, imperfect, reassuring, and deeply loved.
Happy Father’s day, from us, to you.
Letter no. 1
The very obvious and most patent way to start this letter off is by saying words like “thank you Dad, for so-and-so,” and declarations like “I love you papy, for being so-and-so.” So that’s exactly what I will not do. I will start this letter off by saying that my dad is not like other dads. Not in the sense that he’s a cool dad (which he is) or that he’s young at heart (which he is), but more so in the sense that he has allowed me to be unapologetically myself. There was never any imposition of who I was ‘supposed’ to become or any rule that I was supposed to adhere to – besides a 10 pm curfew when I was in middle school. My dad understood me. He understood that as a teenager, I needed to rebel and wear nothing but black and listen to music that occasionally gave me – and everyone around me – headaches. He never questioned it. Maybe he did once or twice, but it wasn’t out of judgement, rather out of curiosity. He wanted to know me better, but unfortunately I had completely shut him out. I was disconnected and angry and bitter, which looking back makes me sad because I feel like I missed out on so many good years with my dad and wasted them being angsty. As an adult, this is no longer the case. I am no longer disconnected and angry and bitter, but my dad remains understanding. And that is my biggest blessing. I didn’t start this letter off by saying thank you, but I will end it with that. Thank you for supporting me through anything I was going through. Thank you for allowing me to become who I needed to become on my own time. Thank you for taking pictures of my name whenever you see it written on anything. Thank you for my awesome taste in music. And finally, thank you for being the father I need. I love you, Papa – and I will always know that every little thing is gonna be alright.
Letter no. 2
Today my best friend just lost her dad and all I can think of is how one person cannot be distilled into words. How losing you would be so impossible to comprehend- my brain can’t even go there, it hurts too much.
Today we discussed wills in the car as you drove us to Maadi- our usual carpool to work together. I said something about how you should write one, you said “baad el sharr”. I am practical. You are practical and strong.
There is a level of faith that I have seen from you that I have done my best to emulate, and yet no matter what happens I can’t ever imagine having your strength and grace–that full belief that God will support you.
I think the reason I’m still single is I haven’t met a single man who can measure up to your love.
You’re my person and my rock and the first person I want to call when things go South- and North. Sorry mom, I love calling you too, I just know you hate talking on the phone.
To feel so secure that someone will be beside you through it all, is hard to comprehend.
Often, you drive me crazy. I know I need to turn the lights off, Pa. I know I need to rinse the dishes. I know I have an appointment I need to be up for at 8.00AM. You don’t have to remind me all the time.
And yet, I also know that you are trying to raise me. That one day, I’ll be standing there in the living room with my (maybe) kids and accidentally say “e2felo el shebak lau ento mewala’een el takif” or “el kahraba mesh be balash”. It’s always the little things.
Thank you for supporting me and holding me up, for believing in my dreams and showing me how music is essential to life.
I will always love you.
Letter no. 3
Dear Dad,
We didn’t have many conversations, memories, or even photographs together. You left when I was still very young, too young to truly know you.
But I grew up loving you through the stories people told about you—your kindness, your generous heart, and the way everyone spoke about you with so much love. You became my role model long before I had the chance to know you myself.
Maybe I didn’t inherit your looks, but I’d like to believe I inherited parts of who you were. We share the same zodiac sign, support the same football club, and sometimes I feel our hearts are more alike than I ever imagined.
This Father’s Day, I just want to say thank you. I hope you’re at peace, and if you’re watching from somewhere above, I hope you’re proud of me.
Happy Father’s Day. I miss you always.
Love,
Your daughter
Letter no. 4
To everyone else, my dad is the definition of structured. He’s practical, direct, and unyielding; a man of 1+1=2, black or white, strict rules, and high standards. He can be tough with his employees, his surroundings, and the world outside. But the second he steps through the front door, he becomes the most linear, peaceful person on earth. Because when it comes to me, his math changes. He lets me be the three in his 1+1. He allows me to be his grey.
With me, there are no rigid expectations, just a rare, completely unconditional love and a genuine willingness to give everything for absolutely nothing in return. He is my ultimate supporter, and honestly, he is the exact reason I’m still single. He set the bar so impossibly high that finding a future husband feels daunting; nobody else seems to measure up to the way he protects and loves me. Thank you, pops, for softening your world just for me, for being the standard I refuse to lower, and for being the safest place I will ever know. I love you.
