At the end of all the racing, I thanked my dad for all his help and told him that everything he did helped make it easier for me to focus simply on racing. He humbly replied that he hadn’t really done that much, and that he’d had fun. That’s really about all that was said. I didn’t feel the need for anything more. My dad traveled seven hours back to his home and I went to stay with some friends for a few more days.
Several days later, while relaxing on a boat with friends, I decided to check my email, which I hadn’t looked at in several days. I was surprised to find a message from my dad:
“I want to tell you how proud I am of you for doing what you do and what you did this last weekend. I was glad I was there to help you, what little help I was. I was glad to help you and be with you for each ride. You did a great job and the reason you did is because your heart is in it. Great job!!”
I didn’t know what was filling up faster—the tears in my plastic cup of Corona or the vast, empty chasm that I had always convinced myself was full.
My dad loves kittens and babies—and me.
Photo: Kavitha Shivan
