DAD

My Dad doesn’t like having his picture taken.

He says his face has too many wrinkles.

His hands are too “scarred,” marked from accidents in the carpentry workshop.

He also claims he’s never properly dressed and waves his hand as if to say:

“Why would I ruin a photo next to you, all dressed up, looking like this?”

So our archive of photos with Dad is sparse.

But everyday life moments? There are plenty—plenty to fill a wagon.

Here, look—his worn hands lift Mykolas into the air, letting him “fly.”

Over there, he’s with Dominykas, carrying fishing rods over his shoulder, pulling them toward the riverbank.

And then he’s hopping across the pavement on squares drawn with chalk by Patricija, shouting:
“Grandpa, faster! You can do it!”

In Dad’s yard, my car magically “cleans up” as it arrives from Vilnius.

The mats get shaken out.

The windows shine.

He’s ready, right here and now, to help make something I casually mentioned I really wanted.

And in the bag he brings from the store, there are always our favorite treats.

Nothing is ever too difficult for him.

I’ve never heard him say, “I can’t. It won’t work. It’s impossible.”

He doesn’t use many words.

But from his eyes and daily actions, you can read millions of words—all saying the same thing:

“I can do everything…because I love you very much.”

For our humble everyday superhero—

DAD

V.