Shout out to my pops in the back

When I was little I used to fall asleep laying on my dad's chest, counting his heartbeats. 

Making sure it was still beating. 

I counted 204 beats for all the bruises he had. 

4,532 beats for the ones that healed. 

And 500 more for worried thoughts that went through his mind as he fell asleep the night before. 

Half his heartbeats went to stress and worry but I guess that comes with the job. 

Too many heartbeats went into waiting up late, midnight phone calls, money problems, anything that made his kids cry. 

To this day I can place my hand on his heart and still feel the worry, but I can also hear something echoing behind them. 

I can hear every first moment he had with my mother. Their first kiss, the first time he held her hand, the first time he made her laugh. 

I can hear his college graduation ceremony. 

The moment he was called dad. 

When he got on the plane to Thailand. 

All the times he carried his sleeping kids to their beds at night. 

When he took his first step towards his own business.

When his son called him in the middle of the night to tell him he was engaged. 

When he held his grandson for the first time. 

Every time we're all around the table laughing. 

My father never asks for anything. 

He doesn't believe in needing things other than the necessities. 

He's a man with heart murmurs. 

Heart murmurs that speak for him, you just need to have the right kind of ear to hear them. 

Happy birthday dad.