He Lived It, I learned It

When I wrote about my mum on Mother’s Day, my dad left a comment. Actually, two. Both loving, highly dramatic (sorry Daddy 😂), and deeply honest. He said he was “jealous,” but that he “came in peace.” It made me laugh, and it stayed with me.

Because even in those few words, I could hear the heart behind them. I could hear a father’s quiet desire to be seen too. And I understood it. I didn’t forget.

So today, I want to write about my dad. But I want to write about him through something that stands out to me every single time I think of who he is: his discipline.

My dad is one of the most disciplined people I know. This is not a dramatic exaggeration. It’s simply the truth.

He has lived with diabetes for over 25, maybe even 30 years, and in all that time, he has been consistently committed to his health. He doesn’t joke with his medications. He watches what he eats. He makes lifestyle choices that many people struggle to maintain even for a few weeks. And somehow, he’s made it look normal. Like second nature.

He’s done this quietly. Faithfully. For decades. And because of that, he has lived long and well without the major complications that so often come with diabetes.

You may think, Well, it’s not a big deal, until you have to stay committed to something simple. Being in the hospital has deepened my respect for his discipline. Patients come in here so often with complications that could’ve been easily avoided just by consistency with their medications. And yet, it’s not easy. I see that now. And it makes what he’s done all the more remarkable.

That same discipline shows up in his work. My dad didn’t come from much. In fact, he came from very, very little. And yet, he built a life not just for himself, but for his family. He worked hard. Then he worked harder.He woke up when it was hard. He got up when it was uncomfortable. He kept going when it didn’t feel like anything was changing. And somehow, slowly but surely, he built something solid from the ground up.

Nobody talks about that kind of love. The kind that forces you stay disciplined. The kind that makes you show up daily, not in grand gestures, but in quiet choices: waking up early, staying up late, carrying burdens without complaint, showing up again and again.

He created a life of stability and opportunity where there once was nothing. And he did it through ordinary, everyday choices. One morning at a time. One task at a time. One prayer at a time. One sacrifice at a time.And he did it not for applause, or attention, or recognition but because that’s just the kind of man he is. Disciplined. Devoted. Consistent.

The older I get, the more I realise how rare that is.

It’s easy to romanticize success. To celebrate the big, shiny milestones. But what often gets overlooked are the small, steady, unseen decisions that shape a lifetime.

My dad’s discipline reminds me that the hard things are usually the most worthwhile. That love isn’t just in the loud, grand gestures, like Hollywood would make us believe. It’s also in the quiet choice to keep showing up.And that legacy isn’t about one big moment, it’s about the thousands of little ones that come together to tell a story.

Sometimes, I see him doing something so small, maybe reaching for his medication after dinner, or checking his blood sugar without fanfare, and I’m just in awe.Because I know what that moment really means. I know what it has cost. And I know what it has built.

So today, I want to say:

Daddy, I see you. I see the quiet power of your discipline. I see the strength in your choices, your routines, your sacrifices. I see the beauty of a life lived with intention. And I’m inspired by it every day.

Happy Father’s Day to the man whose discipline taught me what it means to build something that lasts. You are loved, you are honoured, and no I didn’t forget your comments. 😌

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Your turn: What’s one trait your father has that you admire? Something you’ve learned from just watching him live, or something you’re already beginning to see in yourself? Tell me in the comments, I’d love to read about your dad too. ❤️