THE WAYS THAT MATTER

You know, my dad wasn't around much. He wasn't a deadbeat or anything, In fact, just the opposite. He almost worked himself to death. He spent everything, every hour, every drop of sweat and blood, to send me to school and to make sure that I never wanted for anything. But he wasn't around much. Always making sure that he was making enough to put me through boarding school and my sister through college. But he was never there. Not when it really mattered.

He wasn't there to teach me how to shave, or how to talk to girls. He was always off, “So that I could have more.” He wasn't there the first time I sang in front of an audience. He never taught me how to fight. For all of his hard work and effort, he never taught me how to be a man.

So I really have to thank you, infinitesimal bundle of flesh and bone and blood. That you for being trusting enough to place your faith, your trust, your life, into the hands of someone that doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing. And to tell you the truth, I'm scared. I’m scared of messing up, And of letting you down. I’m scared of hating you, or you hating me.

You, like the trillions of lives that have been on this earth, have a rough journey ahead of you. Things will punch you, and kick you. Even more so when you barely have the sliver of breath you need to breathe. On top of that, even your old man is probably going to let you down sometimes. But if there is one promise I will make, it is this: trust me to be there, in all the ways that matter.

I love you.