My Son

His face is like a cherub with all its light and innocence. Rosy chipmunk cheeks encompass a perfect pair of green eyes, a soft button nose and the largest grin one can imagine. In fact, each smile radiates from those beautiful eyes even when a mouth isn’t fully visible. To say he is a happy child would be an understatement.
On July 31st, 2006 my wife and I were humbled to give birth to a boy who radiated beauty and perfection in a divine way. He was “spindly” and had yet to grow in to his angelical features. His mother held him first and then myself.
During the birth, I was in the room watching…and eating a sandwich…at first I then put it down to assist in my son’s delivery.
Almost immediately after the birth our boy had to be resuscitated while his mother greedily slept an induced sleep. His breathing had stopped and it took four minutes to jump start him again. The staff acted quick as lightening to revive him and the only evidence to this day of anything amiss is a scar on the bottom of one foot where the nurse scratched him with her nail to see if that would revive him or if they needed to perform CPR.
His mother slept like an angel during this ordeal while I did my best to keep in touch with my surroundings – my head reeling. When he finally came around, the staff performed other measures to ensure his breath way was clear and gave him a bath soon after. Seeing your child undergo enormous stress right out of the gate puts a perspective on life as only a parent would know.
I stood along side talking to him while the nurse gave him a bath. Telling him I’m his, Daddy, telling him he’ll be okay from now on, telling him he’s safe. He soon stopped crying and looked in my direction which immediately brought my hand up to my mouth as I began to cry from exhilaration, sadness, satisfaction and exhaustion.
From the moment of my son’s birth to the present I think about that almost fateful day. What he has accomplished and what he will accomplish. I think of how tiny he once was and that he could fit in my arm like a bag of sugar and when I look at him now at 4 ½ years old, he’s four feet tall and packed with muscle. A far cry from the spindly baby he once was.
He’s a daredevil like me. He gets angry when he hasn’t eaten like me. He’s also very acute and aware of his surroundings willing to assist his fellow man or animal in need…like me. At 4 ½ he has more honor and courage than most adults I know and that behavior needs to be cultivated so it continues to grow.
These days each wide-eyed smile and laugh is better than that first warm spring day of the season and I get to experience that daily. Sucking it up like my dog does the sun on a warm, sunny day. Daily he grabs my hand to come dance with him. Daily he asks me to read to him. Daily he has to give his dog, Sammy a hug and kiss. Daily he’s special. And everyday he is told and shown how much he is loved.
My son’s name is, Graham and I can’t express my love and devotion to him enough other than to say this; I am truly a lucky, humbled and honored man to be in his presence.

Not Myself At Times

There are times when I’m not myself.
I’ve tried so hard for many, many years to do the right thing whenever possible. I say whenever possible because sometimes there is an inner beast that takes over and I give in to malice.
I’m married now…again. Having been married for almost 6 years now. We also have a four year old boy and 18 month old daughter. I would gladly give whatever I am and have for each of them. For all the bitching that I do that nothing works out for me, I do know that I have three people in my life that truly love me.
I had another son at one time. He has been adopted by his step-father. His mother and I constantly fought and for no reason than to prove each other right. We focused so much on who was right that we lost sight of what was most important, our son. All I wanted was to make him happy so I terminated my parental rights for his step-father to adopt him in the hopes that some normalcy will come his way. I love him and it hurts everyday that I no longer am allowed to speak to or see him.
His mother on the other hand single-handedly fucked everything up and I argued with her which only made her fuck things up even worse. So in a way I fucked up as well.
I also miss my father since having died from a stroke in 2003. There are so many things I want to talk to him about and can’t hear a reply. I do talk to him though in the hopes that he’ll implant the answer in my essence. It hasn’t happened yet but why give up now?
Lately I have been feeling so...angry for no apparent reason. I have always been one to take on anyone at any given time but now it's to the extreme. Even the slightest infraction pushes me over the edge.
So I'm not myself at times and getting back to the way I was seems so far off that it almost seems unatainable.