My dear,
Happy Father’s Day! Enjoy your new bottle of hot sauce to try. Enjoy the card I had the boys color on. I hope you feel loved and respected.
I want you to know that I see you. I see all you do.
I see the commitment to work and provide for us. While the mornings may be hard and make your expected time coming home from work variable, you put in the time necessary to bring home more than enough for us to live off of. You make us generous because of how you provide.
I see the love you have for us and our boys. The day our first was born it was you who watched over him, bathed him and held him first. When I couldn’t be there, when he was across the room from my hospital bed it might as well been 100 miles away. But you, you could be there. And you were. The day our second was born, I was again in a hospital bed. This time strapped down so our second could come out surgically. Again, I couldn’t be there for him, but you were. You trimmed his umbilical cord. You held him first. You, once again, brought him to me.
It was you who cuddled and adored them. It was I who had to beg you to give them up while we learned to nurse. You were the one who wanted to be there as they grew for their owies and booboos. You tend to their hurts with tenderness. When things were scary, when they were upset, you don’t hesitate to step in and remind them that you’ve got them. You, whose strong arms would scoop them up, would hold them and let them know they were safe.
I see the effort it takes when they come to wake you up in the morning. You rally all the energy you have to let them know they are welcome to come in. I see the teacher you are. The commitment you have to taking time to include them, even the littlest, in all that you can. They feel so big because you include them.
I hear all the ways you speak to them to teach them, to guide them and help them know the way. I know all the time you desire to do more, be more and show them more.
The time will come. We are on this journey. The depression will not always be preeminent in our home. It will have to step down, fade away, disappear.
When that time comes. I know what kind of father you will be. The same one I see every day.
Lady Worship Fingers 