From the father of a special boy.
My Son.
First off I have to say I'm so sorry for any mistakes I made in trying to raise you. I did the best I could with what little experience and prep I had bringing up a child as special as you.
Let me say again that I'm forever proud of you. I hope it showed through the yells and frustrations and times it seemed I wanted to give up. I'm so happy you're here, laughing , loving, and talking in that 90 words per second way you have. The one that always end in a sly dimpled cheeks smile.
You are what I asked for all those years ago when having another child seemed a fantasy. I had hope and faith I would be heard. Then you came, loud, strong, handsome. I was overwhelmed by how much you reflected Heaven's grace. You even won over sissy's heart, which is saying a lot. She didn't want to share the family spotlight and there you were, fat and red, trying to make toothless smiles while holding firmly to her forefinger. Oh, how you won her over with that your casual charm of yours.
After finally seeing you, it was hard for any of us to recall when doctor after doctor kept telling us "No." because of your mother's condition and my age. They shook their heads, gave their polite sympathies and called "Next."
But you've never accepted "No." I think you get that from both your mom and my father. Your mom is hardheaded, and as for granddad, "No" is not a word a seventh son learns. "Maybe", yes. But "No", uh-huh, never. To him it's a sound without meaning. You both share that same hearing.
When you arrived, more doctors told us you would have issues. As you grew, teachers and sitters told us you had issues. You were too rambunctious, your moods swung too wide this way and that. There was no middle with you, only delirious highs or nerve wrecking lows. Rarely any calm.
Your mom and I blamed ourselves, then each other, sometimes we cursed our heritage, our status, our home, our dreams. There were times we were the worst parents, then the best, hardly were we ever average. You never gave us chance to be average, because you always demanded more from us than that.
You were exhausting but never draining. For every cry you gave us two laughs, every outburst was repaired with a bear hug, every trip to the principle's office was followed by you reminding us that today was better than yesterday. And yes it was. You were right, today was always better than yesterday.
You passed from school to school, talked with therapists and counselors, listened to grave predictions and helpful advice without loosing that dimpled smile. Then they all told us what we already knew, that you were a genius in disguise. They needed IQ tests to tell them what your mom and I could see just from watching you play. Science is often slow that way, so learn to be patient with it.
Remember when you beat those bullies? Just between me and you, I have to admit I'm still proud of that. I didn't mind picking you up from suspension after I heard what they had said and tried to do, and saw how thoroughly you demolished them. I maybe wrong, but I think evil should be whupped every time it rears its head, and you whupped it good. They never challenged you again after you showed them you had as much right to this planet as they did.
I am suppose to prepare you for life's cruelties but you instead prepared me. You showed me that there are few barriers that can't be stormed through and smirked at once you're on the other side.
However, I still get scared for you in this world, especially when you said you're going to get married one day. I know nothing is going to stop you, not my worries, nor the naysayers. You are going to get married, just like you ace tests and stomp over challenges.
In fact I can see the bride from this many years away. I know her without having her name. I don't doubt you'll find her. I'm just worried by the misses and heartache you'll suffer before the right woman is in your arms. You've been through so much already. Yet, none of it has dimmed you. I once called you a hero and you replied, "I'm not a hero. I just do what I'm suppose to."
That's why I know when Ms. Perfect comes to you she'll be envied. I also know she'll be just like you, a dedicated, clever worker, who crazy dances for no reason, enjoys the colors and flavors of the world, and grins big when the door opens at the end of the day and you see each other all new again. A tight embrace before sleep. She's waiting for you like you're waiting for her. I know you will treasure her as your mom and I treasure you.
You two will argue and get on one another's nerves, make up a hundred times, want to call it quits a hundred times. Life happens, so you two enjoy it best you can and don't let a few bumps derail your journey.
On your seventh birthday, your best friend M_ drew you a picture on a sheet of paper and gave it to you during your party in the park. Over all the presents you got that day, M_'s drawing is the only one you still have. It was the only one hand made. "She put her heart in it." That's why you said you kept it. Part of me hopes you and M_ see each other again some day and that you show her the drawing so she'll have a chance to tear up with pride.
Life happens and it's wonderful.
So yes, I know you'll be a good husband because you've been a good person and loving son.
I'm as sure of this as I was of that quiet promise that brought you here.
-All my love.
Your Father.
My Son.
First off I have to say I'm so sorry for any mistakes I made in trying to raise you. I did the best I could with what little experience and prep I had bringing up a child as special as you.
Let me say again that I'm forever proud of you. I hope it showed through the yells and frustrations and times it seemed I wanted to give up. I'm so happy you're here, laughing , loving, and talking in that 90 words per second way you have. The one that always end in a sly dimpled cheeks smile.
You are what I asked for all those years ago when having another child seemed a fantasy. I had hope and faith I would be heard. Then you came, loud, strong, handsome. I was overwhelmed by how much you reflected Heaven's grace. You even won over sissy's heart, which is saying a lot. She didn't want to share the family spotlight and there you were, fat and red, trying to make toothless smiles while holding firmly to her forefinger. Oh, how you won her over with that your casual charm of yours.
After finally seeing you, it was hard for any of us to recall when doctor after doctor kept telling us "No." because of your mother's condition and my age. They shook their heads, gave their polite sympathies and called "Next."
But you've never accepted "No." I think you get that from both your mom and my father. Your mom is hardheaded, and as for granddad, "No" is not a word a seventh son learns. "Maybe", yes. But "No", uh-huh, never. To him it's a sound without meaning. You both share that same hearing.
When you arrived, more doctors told us you would have issues. As you grew, teachers and sitters told us you had issues. You were too rambunctious, your moods swung too wide this way and that. There was no middle with you, only delirious highs or nerve wrecking lows. Rarely any calm.
Your mom and I blamed ourselves, then each other, sometimes we cursed our heritage, our status, our home, our dreams. There were times we were the worst parents, then the best, hardly were we ever average. You never gave us chance to be average, because you always demanded more from us than that.
You were exhausting but never draining. For every cry you gave us two laughs, every outburst was repaired with a bear hug, every trip to the principle's office was followed by you reminding us that today was better than yesterday. And yes it was. You were right, today was always better than yesterday.
You passed from school to school, talked with therapists and counselors, listened to grave predictions and helpful advice without loosing that dimpled smile. Then they all told us what we already knew, that you were a genius in disguise. They needed IQ tests to tell them what your mom and I could see just from watching you play. Science is often slow that way, so learn to be patient with it.
Remember when you beat those bullies? Just between me and you, I have to admit I'm still proud of that. I didn't mind picking you up from suspension after I heard what they had said and tried to do, and saw how thoroughly you demolished them. I maybe wrong, but I think evil should be whupped every time it rears its head, and you whupped it good. They never challenged you again after you showed them you had as much right to this planet as they did.
I am suppose to prepare you for life's cruelties but you instead prepared me. You showed me that there are few barriers that can't be stormed through and smirked at once you're on the other side.
However, I still get scared for you in this world, especially when you said you're going to get married one day. I know nothing is going to stop you, not my worries, nor the naysayers. You are going to get married, just like you ace tests and stomp over challenges.
In fact I can see the bride from this many years away. I know her without having her name. I don't doubt you'll find her. I'm just worried by the misses and heartache you'll suffer before the right woman is in your arms. You've been through so much already. Yet, none of it has dimmed you. I once called you a hero and you replied, "I'm not a hero. I just do what I'm suppose to."
That's why I know when Ms. Perfect comes to you she'll be envied. I also know she'll be just like you, a dedicated, clever worker, who crazy dances for no reason, enjoys the colors and flavors of the world, and grins big when the door opens at the end of the day and you see each other all new again. A tight embrace before sleep. She's waiting for you like you're waiting for her. I know you will treasure her as your mom and I treasure you.
You two will argue and get on one another's nerves, make up a hundred times, want to call it quits a hundred times. Life happens, so you two enjoy it best you can and don't let a few bumps derail your journey.
On your seventh birthday, your best friend M_ drew you a picture on a sheet of paper and gave it to you during your party in the park. Over all the presents you got that day, M_'s drawing is the only one you still have. It was the only one hand made. "She put her heart in it." That's why you said you kept it. Part of me hopes you and M_ see each other again some day and that you show her the drawing so she'll have a chance to tear up with pride.
Life happens and it's wonderful.
So yes, I know you'll be a good husband because you've been a good person and loving son.
I'm as sure of this as I was of that quiet promise that brought you here.
-All my love.
Your Father.