Lila and Lucy – I Want You to Know

I want you to know that I love you more than you can possibly imagine. It’s impossible to quantify – but I assume my unconditional love for you is as vast as the Milky Way Galaxy, multiplied by two-hundred million. Before you, I was aimlessly wandering around without purpose or direction. I drank a lot – and most weekends between the ages of 18 to 28 are just a blur in the memory bank.

Lila – when I held you for the first time, it changed me forever. It started a slow progression from sad and lonely alcoholic to sober and productive Dad. You injected so much purpose and meaning into my life – it filled me with such an amazing warmth that continues to grow today. You’re also 12.5 years old now – so you play video games a lot, but I will always cherish when you thought I was the coolest dude around…not just the guy who cooks you meals and drops you off at school. Oh, and reminds you to put on deodorant, because you’re mature enough now to have some serious body odor (I won’t tell anyone).

Lucy – I never thought I would have another child, if I am being honest. Lila kept me busy, and one child creates enough stress as it is. HOWEVER, a wonderful and amazing woman, your mom, swiped right on my profile and the rest is history. We have been together for 7 years, living together for 6 and you arrived on December 29, 2019. I didn’t expect to have another child – but I am so grateful you were born. I wasn’t sure if I could love another human as much as I do Lila – but after holding you, and getting to know your amazing personality…it’s clear to me that I love you just as much. I couldn’t imagine living without either of you, which is the point of this post.

I’m going to die one day. I don’t know when – it could be tomorrow, or it could be 50-years from now. The point is that life is unpredictable, and I need you to have something you can reference, where I talk you through accepting this reality. My main objective as a parent is to love you with all of my heart and soul, and not spoil you to the extent you become entitled brats that expect everyone to do things for you. I want you both to be self-sufficient, independent and fierce – and in order to achieve that, I must be as honest as possible.

I think about mortality a lot, especially since becoming a parent. My worst fear is that I will not be here to protect you – so I need to know that you can protect yourself. My other worst fear is that you won’t be provided for – so I need to know that you can provide for yourself. You see, in this world, you’re on your own in a lot of cases – despite what people tell you. A Facebook “like” or nice comment isn’t actual support – it’s lazy and artificial attempts to socialize and connect, mostly with people who you never see in reality.

If I were to go tomorrow – I would want you both to know that being around you, in your presence – is a feeling I constantly cherish in the moment, and miss when we’re apart. I would want you to know that whether I die at 41 years old, or 100 years old, it’s not any easier to process the loss of a loved one. But, you can accept it – with the understanding that we will be together again – and I will always be closer than you think. I truly believe that this is one of many lifetimes we live – we just didn’t spontaneously arrive, only to exist for such a short period of time. No, we’ve been together in past lives, in the present time and will be together again in a future life.

I want you to know that your happiness is so important to me – and when you’re feeling out of sorts about things – think of all the crazy times we shared. Lila convincing me to go on crazy scary rides at the beach – and me volunteering at her school for 5-years. Flying to Pennsylvania each year to visit mom-mom and pop-pop, and all of the cousins. Holidays, movie nights (especially the terrible scary movies), beach weeks and the millions of laughs we shared.

I want you to know that I will try to be as healthy as possible – so I am on this earth for many more years. But, the fact is, tomorrow isn’t promised to any of us. So, pick this note up when that time comes, and you’re feeling down. Just know that, in time, we will be together again – laughing, and getting reacquainted.

I love you both in this life and the next,

Dad

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