My 88-year-old father stalked me to send him an advanced copy of my book, Yoga for Life, which comes out in June. Dad may forget some things, but this one thing, he did not. Every few days, I would get a text (yes, my dad texts), saying, “I am old and I want to read your book. I don’t want to wait until it comes out. Please send it to me today.” I was nervous about him reading it, because even though I am an adult, his approval is still very important to me. So I sent it, and he read it.
My dad is one of those people who doesn’t mince words or speak niceties just for the sake of it. That was part of my hesitation in letting him read it: I knew he would tell me what he thought, and I wasn’t sure I could handle hearing it. My other hesitation was that my book would make him sad, as his heart is still bleeding for my mom, who is featured large.
Well, today I sit here like a child, welled-up with tears. My father approves of my book. He said in a message that he loves it. He said I brought mom back to life in my pages. Then he wrote me this note:
Your book is very good. I wish your mother could read it. You were a wild child but have grown into one of the sweetest most caring adults I know. You have made me very proud. I love you, babe.
I would like to sell a million copies of my book because yoga is for life and I believe that the more people realize that, the better the world will be. But if I never sell a single copy, my father is proud of me, which makes me happy that I wrote the book.