DAD DOESN’T SAY “I MISS YOU”. HE SAYS “HAVE YOU EATEN?”
He calls with three questions: where you are, whether it is raining and whether you have eaten. You answer quickly because the replies always seem the same. Then you hang up and smile. Perhaps those practical questions also mean: I am thinking of you. Not every dad easily finds the words he needs to express affection.
The language of gestures
Some fathers prepare a bag of oranges, check a tyre or keep an article you might like. Others talk openly and know how to hug. No image describes everyone. Yet sometimes we recognise a father’s affection in an apparently small sentence, repeated so often that it almost becomes background noise rather than something we actively notice and receive.
Recognising affection does not mean assigning certain intentions to every action. You can ask: “When you ask whether I have eaten, are you worrying about me?” Perhaps the answer is funny; perhaps a new conversation begins. Dialogue can start with what already exists without demanding a film scene or the perfect declaration delivered at precisely the right moment.
Sometimes we have reached adulthood still waiting for certain words: I am proud of you, I missed you, I love you. We can appreciate food prepared for us and still want those words. Both wishes belong together. Understanding someone’s language does not require abandoning forever a request for something missing that genuinely matters in our relationship with them.
Asking can also be an act of love
“I would like to hear that you are pleased to see me.” That differs from putting every missed opportunity on trial. It cannot guarantee the reply you want, but it makes a need visible. Choose a quiet moment and speak about yourself without using somebody else’s father as a comparison intended to strengthen an accusation or win the discussion.
A parent may need to learn new words too. That does not make the daughter a full-time teacher responsible for his emotional growth. A relationship can change through mutual willingness, imperfect conversations and recognised limits. Change should not depend entirely on the patience of the person who has always been waiting for something that never quite arrives.
Where there is affection and enough freedom, you can try changing the telephone call yourself. After answering about dinner, add: “And how are you, really?” Then leave a few seconds. Not to turn every call into a confession, but to give the relationship room for something beyond the practical information you usually exchange before saying goodbye to each other.
When food is not an easy subject
A caring question becomes burdensome when it carries control or constant remarks about the body. “Have you eaten?” can be affectionate; questioning quantities, weight and appearance can cause distress. We do not have to call an action good simply because the person doing it believes it comes from concern. Intention and the effect on another person both matter.
You might say: “I know you care about me, but I would rather not discuss my weight.” Or: “If you are worried, listen without commenting on my plate.” You are not necessarily rejecting the person. You are explaining how you want to be treated. Respecting boundaries can help affection arrive instead of burying it beneath explanations and unwanted scrutiny.
No ready-made sentence repairs every relationship. If the conversation becomes offensive, you can end it and resume only in better conditions. Seeking support does not mean betraying your family. Important relationships can require outside help and decisions that do not immediately receive everyone’s agreement. You do not need unanimous approval before taking your own wellbeing and safety seriously.
What if you never had that kind of dad?
This article does not ask you to find tenderness where you experienced absence, fear or violence. Not every story can be softened by a pot on the stove. You need not invent happy memories to participate in a conversation about fathers, nor resume contact that places your safety at risk simply because someone praises the importance of family.
You can feel different things towards the same person: affection and anger, gratitude for one gesture and pain about others. You do not need one label that makes everything simple for an audience. If you would rather not discuss your father today, that privacy deserves respect. Your story should not become a public exercise in demonstrating reconciliation or forgiveness.
In Christian faith we call God Father. The Catechism, paragraph 239, explains that God transcends human fatherhood and motherhood. An earthly father is not a perfect photograph of God. His failings do not measure divine love, and religious words should never impose closeness on someone who has been hurt or suggest that protection reflects a failure of faith.
A different question next time
In Matthew 6:8–13, Jesus teaches us to address the Father and ask for daily bread. Practical life can enter prayer. CHIARA!’s reflection begins there: affection needs words and real things, without one dimension automatically cancelling the other. A thoughtful action and an honest conversation can each offer something the relationship needs to receive and understand.
If this story resembles yours, pause before answering “Yes, yes, everything is fine” during the next call. Ask what he cooked, perhaps. Tell him you were pleased to hear from him. Or calmly express something you would like to change. There is no compulsory call: choose what is possible and respectful within your own history and present circumstances.
If a question makes you smile tonight, recognise the smile without making it a rule for everyone. A father can learn to say “I miss you”. A daughter can learn to request clearer words. Meanwhile, where freedom and respect exist, a bowl of soup kept aside can tell a small part of the love connecting two people across an ordinary day.
