For the Ones Who Give Quietly

A letter to the Giving Tree, and the fathers we often forget to thank.

Dear Giving Tree,

When I was younger, I thought your story was about love. Pure, generous love. You gave everything to the boy who came and went. Your apples, your branches, your trunk. Even when he stopped seeing you, even when he only came around to take, you gave.

And for a long time, I thought that was beautiful.

But now? I read your story and feel something different. Something heavier. Because love like that—the kind that empties you—shouldn’t be the only kind we celebrate.

The boy never really gave anything back. He only showed up when he needed something, and every time, you gave a little more of yourself until all that was left was a stump. He sat down when he was tired, and still, you called it love.

It reminds me of someone else I know.

My dad.

He gives quietly. No grand speeches, no asking for praise. Just steady love—the kind that shows up. Fixes broken things. Makes space for everyone else’s needs. Carries the hard stuff without making a sound.

Fathers do that a lot. And we don’t always notice.

They’re not always the first to be celebrated, or the ones we pour our hearts out to. But they’re there—in the background, in the hard moments, in the ways we often overlook until we really see.

And with Father’s Day around the corner, I’ve been thinking about what it means to be like the Giving Tree—and what it costs. Because even though my dad gives with love, I wonder if anyone ever asks him how he’s doing. I wonder if he feels like a stump sometimes, giving and giving, quietly fading into the background.

Here’s the truth I wish the boy in your story—and all of us—understood:

Love without limits sounds noble, but it can hurt the giver.

Love without boundaries can look a lot like disappearing.

We grow up thinking that being kind means saying yes all the time. That strength means never asking for help. That love means sacrificing ourselves. But it doesn’t have to.

Real love respects limits.

Real love checks in.

Real love gives back.

So this Father’s Day, I want to say thank you.

To the fathers who give quietly.

Who carry burdens without applause.

Who stand tall like trees, even when they’re tired.

And I also want to say this:

You are allowed to rest. You are allowed to ask for help.

You deserve more than just being the one everyone leans on.

You deserve to be seen—not just when we need something, but because you matter.

Giving is beautiful. But so is receiving. So is keeping a few branches for yourself.

This Father’s Day, I hope every dad out there knows:

You don’t have to be a stump to be loved.

You don’t have to give it all away to be enough.

You already are.

With love and gratitude,

A girl learning to love like the tree—

but still keep her roots.

Anaya ❤️