A Father's Day Letter

Dear Addison and Jackson,

I originally wrote this letter five years ago when you were 7 and 4, but now that you’re older and will have a better understanding, I wanted to write this again.

I hope that this can be my Father’s Day gift to you as I continue to figure out parenthood and you guys continue to grow up. I hope you’ll read this one day when you’re older.

I’m not perfect. I’m not a perfect parent.

Like you, I have my good days and my bad. I try to be funny when I’m not. Addison reminds me of my bad “dad jokes” that are either too funny for her to laugh or not funny enough. I try to be stern when I can be. I try to be loving when it’s difficult for me. I try to hide the sadness I feel inside at times; I don’t want you to constantly battle the darkness of depression that I face on a daily basis. I want to protect you from that.

I try every single day. That’s why I started writing daily notes to you, Addison, three years ago.

I don’t want you to view me as your hero or your best friend. I just want to be a good dad to you and be there when you need me. I want to teach you things you’ll need in life…long after I’m gone.

I was scared to death when I became a dad for the first time in 2008. Addison, I remember holding you for the first time and thinking: “I’m now responsible for another life.” But I loved you from the moment I saw you. Unconditionally.

I know I haven’t consoled you enough when you needed me. But I want you to know that you are beautiful the way you are and I hope I can raise you to be a respectful young woman who sees the good in others.

You are sweet, smart, funny, and destined to be great in whatever you do.

Yes, I cried at your Kindergarten graduation and I shed a tear when I opened your first grade report card. I’m not sorry I did that, but be forewarned: I will cry when you start junior high in August. I will cry at your high school graduation, when you graduate college, when I give you away on your Wedding Day, and when you have kids. That’s my right as a dad. I want to be sure you still love me and you don’t hate me when you grow older. I don’t want to lose my baby girl.

I can’t believe you turn 12 in July! Stop growing.

Now, Jackson…. Oh, my little shadow. You’ve been to the ER more times in 8+ years than I have in my 38 years of existence. That’s an impressive feat. You have a hole in your mouth from your missing teeth that makes women’s hearts swoon because they think you’re so cute.

Don’t take this the wrong way: when your mom and I found out we were having a boy, I panicked. I didn’t want a boy. I didn’t think I could be a good dad to a son. You’re always by my side. You’re my little buddy. I want to teach you how to properly throw a baseball, and a football, and to shoot a basketball. I’ve loved throwing baseballs with you in the backyard.

Don’t let anyone take away your passion.

I want you to grow up to become a respectful young man, who learns the value of serving others. I want you to treat women with respect. I want you to treat others with respect.

These last 12 years have been full of great moments that I’ll remember for a lifetime. I can’t believe that I’ve been a dad for 12 years. And to think, when it all started with Addy in 2008, I didn’t think that I’d have two great kids.

I’ll always be there for you in both success and failure, when you fall down, or when someone breaks your heart. I just want to be a good dad and set a good example for the both of you.

I hope you will accept me unconditionally with all my faults and imperfections. I’m not perfect. I’ll never be perfect. I’m not a hero. I just want to be dad.

I love you with all my heart,
Dad