By Herman M. Lagon
If parenting came with a manual, I would have fumbled through it, folded its pages and spilled coffee on its instructions. If fatherhood had a grading system, I would have submitted incomplete assignments, filed multiple late submissions and barely passed some subjects. But if there is one thing I have learned after nearly three decades of being a father, love — flawed, earnest and ever-evolving — is more about grace than perfection. And grace has a name: Parvane Mae Lagon.
She entered my life 28 years ago — delicate yet free-spirited, like the butterfly her name evokes. She developed silently and resiliently through every wing test, forming the feisty and fierce woman she is today. She was the inquisitive child in my arms, the relentless toddler with never-ending questions, the teen who tested limits, and the young woman who morphed her path before she became a medical doctor.
Now I see her — grounded but aspirational, gentle but firm — and I wonder how she became so full of grace and purpose even with a father who was often flawed and learning. Our journey as father and daughter was not shaped by parenting techniques or rigid philosophies but by the quiet, unearned grace that guided us along the way.
Having a daughter like Parvane has been both a privilege and a revelation. Even as a child, she had an innate sense of right and wrong — her moral compass was guided by a firm sense of social justice, not fear of authority.
She questioned rules but never for rebellion — she wanted to understand, make sense of the world and reconcile its contradictions. Parenting her meant being prepared for conversations beyond bedtime stories — discussions about fairness, purpose and the weight of responsibility.
She and her sister, Psyche Mae, both products of grace rather than any parental expertise, have taught me far more about life than I could have ever taught them. There were days when I wondered if my impatience, overprotectiveness or inability always to be present would leave scars. Yet, somehow, grace covered those gaps. They grew up to be women of substance, anchored in values that were instilled not through lectures but through lived experiences — sometimes painful, sometimes beautiful, always authentic.
I remember one particular moment years ago when my flawed nature as a father revealed itself in the simplest yet most profound way. I once questioned why her 98 percent was not a perfect 100 percent — a moment of misplaced expectations, chasing perfection instead of appreciating the effort. But, instead of deflating, she met it with quiet resolve, showing me that she was shaping herself just as much as I was raising her.
Looking back, I see how grace intervened when I failed as a father. Grace reminded me that parenting is about being present, learning from mistakes and always trying again — not about perfection — in the times I was too rigid, too far away or too caught in my problems. That same grace saw Parvane through years of hard work and sacrifice, making her a consistent honor student, a bemedaled writer and a scholar from college to medicine.
Parvane is unique because of her heart for service as much as her intelligence or accomplishments. Nursing or medicine was never about prestige for her — it was about purpose. Choosing to work in rural areas was not about convenience but conviction. She carries a quiet mission, a deep commitment to something bigger than herself, reflecting the grace that has shaped her journey. As she now sets her sights on becoming either an IM specialist, a pedia-pulmonologist, a psychiatrist, or even a UN volunteer in Africa, I will continue to support her mission wherever her heart and calling take her.
As she enters another year, I no longer see a child needing constant guidance. I see a woman — strong, kind and full of grace — walking her own path. My only wish for her is not to achieve more but to keep living with the quiet strength and kindness that define her.
Being her father has been my greatest gift, not because I did it perfectly (far from it), but because I had the privilege of watching her become who she was meant to be.
On her 28th birthday, I celebrate her and the grace that carried us both.
To my daughter Parvane — thank you for showing me that love does not demand perfection, that grace speaks where words fall short, and that fatherhood is about growing and learning together.
Happy 28th birthday, Doc Parvs. You are, and always will be, one of the greatest miracles in my life.
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Doc H fondly describes himself as a “student of and for life” who, like many others, aspires to a life-giving and why-driven world grounded in social justice and the pursuit of happiness. His views do not necessarily reflect those of the institutions he is employed or connected with./WDJ