It is said that motherly love cannot be compared to anything, but this incredible story proves that fatherly love is just as special. Here is what a young woman tells about her relationship with her father who loved her enormously?

“I don’t remember my mother. She died when I was a few months old. My father was 50 years old when I was born. Some would say it’s too late to become a father at this age. My father was both my father and my mother. I was lucky.
When I was in general, my father did a lot of things with me and for me. He would take me to school every day and always prepare something sweet for me after I came home from school.

As I grew up, I tried to detach myself from these childhoods. When I went to high school and had classes at noon, my father would wake up early in the morning and prepare a sandwich for me to have for lunch. He always put a note next to it in which he wished me a good day, he told me it would be good, he told me a short joke or he drew hearts in which he wrote that Daddy loves you. Each time he managed to cheer me up and remind me that he loved me.

I started hiding my dad’s notes when I was with my friends. I was ashamed of them. One of my colleagues, during the break, took my note and passed it on to other colleagues. I blushed like a radish. Fortunately, the next day everyone wanted to see what my father wrote on my note.

I realized that everyone wanted to feel as loved as I did.
I received the notes all high school. I kept them all.

I later moved to college in another city. I always missed my father. I called him every day after school. We had even done a little ritual before we closed. The whole house knew me as the girl who receives letters on Friday. I had friends who knew about the notes and wanted to read them every Friday.

Dad got sick one day. Cancer.
He started writing to me late. My friends called him the best father in the world and one day they wrote him a letter wishing him good health and thanking him for learning what fatherly love means.

Towards the end of the university year, I went home to take care of my father. Because of the treatment, he sometimes didn’t even recognize me.
In the hospital, before he died, I held his hand and he said:
– Angelica?
– Yes, Dad.
– Dad loves you.
“I love you too, Daddy!”