My son, it will be many years until you read this, and probably some years after that still until you fully understand what’s written here.
I write to you from outside of time – so that in the future you will know me as I am now, and not just as I am then. I’m addressing you as the man you will be, with God’s help.
My son, we cannot know the future, we can only live in the moment. Not very long ago my heart broke, literally and figuratively, but Your Mother saved me, literally and figuratively, and God gave me a second chance at life, literally and figuratively.
I didn’t stay down for long. One mustn’t stay down for too long.
I took my second chance gratefully, as one must be grateful everyday for the gift of one’s life. Remember that, live by it, it’s very important.
I’m stronger now, and wiser about my body, my food, my stress, my blood, my heart; I’m healthy, and happy.
But I cannot tell my future. The shock of a heart attack for a young man, for any man, goes deep; it is still with me, and the fear that it will happen again is never far away. That’s the thing to remember about fear: it’s always there, but it is entirely your slave. You are entirely its master.
I try not to think of what was. Instead I think of the eternity in every moment that you and I share.
I look at Your Mother, and at our families and friends: I stay close to them and so must you – they are our angels.
I look at you, now one month old, and my heart… it…heals.
You melt me completely. You build me up completely.
When you fall asleep on my arm you make it ten times stronger.
When you lie on my chest it becomes a mountain.
When you wrap your hand around my finger no force in the universe can dislodge us.
I am father: giant, impenetrable, invincible, timeless, ageless, all seeing; cunning, determined, and when protecting you, utterly ruthless.
This is who I am now; this is whom you have made me.
So my son, thank you for this first father’s day.