You’ve been sick for a week—in a series of illnesses over the last 4 months this has been the worst—and we took you in yesterday to get tubes in your ears. It’s simply surgery, performed countless times without hiccup, of course. But there was a moment, an image that I can’t forget. You were being wheeled away from me, your back to me, unknowing that you were going to be sedated and surgery would be performed.
My dad instincts kicked in. More importantly, my need to protect you from harm kicked in. Your mom was there too (at one point I’ll write about her in depth; but know she is a wonderful, caring person) she’s definitely the more outwardly emotional of the two of us, and that’s good. But something you’ll learn one day, unfortunately, is that you are expected to be strong. Not because you want to be, but for the betterment of others.
UNDER MY UMBRELLA…ELLA…ELLA…ELLA….ELLA…ELLA…ELLA…ELLA (did you notice this image was centered for the first time?
Society, relationship expectations, manliness, blah blah blah, we are expected to be this way. But it’s okay, because our struggles are our own. Our struggles and emotions and weaknesses create us, define us; we become stronger. But that’s a side not that went longer than necessary.
These men, doctors, who were really wonderful men, took you from me and took the charge to protect you, make you well. They took you away from me on a rolling hospital bed and it was terrible to see you go. I wondered if I didn’t tell you I loved you, or I didn’t kiss you enough before they wheeled you out the door, and it’s moments like those that you should shed the expectations of you and feel, express.
I learned something important yesterday—you know things, but sometimes you need refreshers or reminders or a moment to know you’re completely out of control—these moments ground you. The last week has been hard, because you’re torn between knowing your sick child is just sick and will get better, and yearning desperately to see a smile. I almost said “it’s silly,” but it isn’t. That’s being a parent. That’s being Dad. You are my son and I would do anything in my power to protect you; and nothing would stop me to ensure that. I’m a pretty level-headed guy, but I lose my shit if something is causing you harm.
Just because I don’t express it like your mother does, doesn’t mean I am not in a fury inside. But I will be strong for the three of us, because that’s what dads do, we’re the strong ones. But not because we want to be.
As you grow older and see me through your eyes, you’ll have ample time to evaluate who I am as a dad. I am going to make a lot of mistakes, kiddo, but the most important thing for you to know is that I love you unconditionally; I love you desperately. We’re going to butt heads, get in arguments, fight, and maybe you’ll say you hate me. I did it too when I was a child, I get it.But please do not ever leave me without saying goodbye again, because I can’t live like that.
I get angry sometimes, like all people do. But I do my best to ensure you’re happiness and health. You are, after all, an extension of me. So let’s kick some ass, have some fun, get sick, get well, drink some beers, lift some weights, share our feelings with each other, read some books, and learn how to be men together.