It was May 2010 that I decided to start writing you at least one letter every week, to serve as a thumbnail of what was going on in your life that week, or at least what was going on in my head as your dad that week.
I should point out that in May 2010, you weren’t born yet. Instead, that was the month that Mommy and I found out we were going to be having a baby.
You weren’t born until November. So for over a decade, I have been creating and growing this collection of journal entries to document each week of your life.
I have told you about it. You are aware I do this.
But later, when you are older, I think you will truly be able to appreciate having an archive of your own life, written by your dad.
This week has been unexpectedly emotional for me. You’ve been away on vacation in Florida with Nonna and Papa, as well as Aunt Dana and Uncle Andrew, and your cousins.
I didn’t expect to miss you so much. After all, you’re like 9 year and a half years old now. You’re not a little boy anymore.
And that’s exactly why it hit me so hard…
While I couldn’t possibly be prouder of the boy you’ve become, I’ve been coming to terms with the fact that those days of you being a little boy are gone.
For the past 4 days, I have been journaling my thoughts and feelings through a song I have been writing; so that I myself can better understand what I am going through right now.
Today, I was finally able to record the song; one of the few times I was able to do so without crying.
And when I say crying, I mean bawling.
It helped when your Aunt Dana told me today that you are currently taking a break from swimming in the ocean to watch WWE Wrestling.
You don’t treat your stuffed animals like they are real anymore, but you still believe WWE Wrestling is real. I can settle for that. You’re not fully grown up yet.
I love you, Jack.
That boy’s been growing up, that boy’s been growing up on me
He shouldn’t be enough, he shouldn’t be old enough
It doesn’t seem, it doesn’t seem
Those Hot Wheels have all raced away
Like the friends of Thomas the Train
And now I’m missing that boy who went with them
He’s growing up
Those stuffed animals all used to be real
But they’re starting to all disappear
And now my baby boy, first born bundle of joy, is growing up on me
That boy’s a part of me, that boy’s a part of me
My son is growing up
Holding on to memories, never letting go of these
My son is growing up
It takes so much for me to ever cry these days
So it’s funny how these words are drenched in tears
You and I have a special “father and daughter” bond. It’s undeniable.
By nature, I am not a needy person. I don’t “need” people to “like” me to feel good about myself. Otherwise I would be like Michael Scott or Andy Bernard on The Office.
I can accept that the world doesn’t revolve around me.
But I will admit- you have an effortless way of making me feel wanted and needed.
It’s in subtle ways, like when you come home from school everyday, you immediately run to my “office” at the kitchen table and yell “Daddy!” before engaging in a monologue about whatever accidentally hilarious story you have to tell me about school that day.
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