Dear Emerson,
It was hard to hold back the tears as I watched you walk across that stage and accept your high school diploma, it was a milestone moment for you and for me as well.
Memories began to flood in, and I struggled to keep my composure.
I remembered the moment when you were born and the doctor handed you to me. You looked up at me in wonder with those big blue eyes, and when I kissed you on your little button nose, you smiled.
My heart melted. I could not believe that God had blessed me with such a beautiful little gift.
The last 18 years have been a growing and learning experience for both of us.
I taught you how to drive a car in the church parking lot, just like my dad did with me. I taught you gun safety, I taught you how to fish, I taught you how to grow food, I taught you how to cuss and instructed you on when not to.
Thankfully, I never got a call from the principal of your school about you using salty language.
As a baby, I took you to college with me, and I mastered the art of holding and feeding you a bottle with one hand and taking class notes with the other hand. Only one professor had an issue with me bringing you to class with me, so I dropped the class.
When you were about three years old, we went fishing together on the canal, and you suddenly jumped up and ran around a hedge and dropped your britches. When I asked what you were doing, you replied:
“I’m just going wee-wee in the bushes like you do daddy.”
It was around that time that my health took a turn for the worst, and the moment I recovered from the coma, I decided that I should spend as much of the borrowed time I had with you. I did not want you to lose your father at a young age and have only wisps of a memory of the man who helped bring you into this world.
My bosses at WGAC met my demands that you be allowed to go to work with me, and I took you out of daycare. You accompanied me everywhere and thought it was a special treat when we got to go to the “Marble Palace” and hang out with Prince Deke.
I sorta re-lived my own childhood watching you grow and experience new things.
It was baffling and slightly ironic to me that while I was a historian and a professional writer, you struggled with those subjects in school but excelled in math and science, the two subjects I barely passed. In fact, I only passed math and science because my teachers just didn’t want to deal with me anymore.
As you grew into adolescence, I realized that you needed some amount of independence, and I tried to give that to you; but when you took off on your bicycle to go play with friends, I still looked at the clock constantly, ready to form a search party for you if necessary.
I was your protector. You gave my life meaning, and I felt my number one purpose was to raise a young human being to become an admired adult.
When hard times fell on me financially and I had to resort to buying second-hand clothes for you, you never complained and rolled with the punches along with me. You told me all along that things were going to get better, and when they did, you told me that you were proud of me.
You will only know the depth of my love for you when you have a child of your own and experience it yourself.
I know that I cannot be your protector anymore. You have a world of your own to conquer; but I hope, as your dad, I have equipped you with all the skills to navigate the world and be a huge success in your endeavors.
However, I do want you to know that should you fall, should you stumble, should you find yourself trapped in a hurricane, your dad will risk life and limb to see you to safety.
Thank you for being such a wonderful kid. Now go out there and conquer the world!
Love,
Your Old Man
