A Letter to My Son — Peter Stanislaus

I always wanted to be a father, but I don’t know if I ever thought much about what it meant to be a father. Yes, I had a father. Yes, I loved him. I always assumed though that at some point in one’s adult male life you were invited to a classroom where all other males of influence taught you how to be the father of your dreams. The issue is though, that moment never comes. You just become a father. Wearing the same thing you were wearing yesterday. Filled with the same fears that have occupied your mind for as long as you can remember except now you are a father. You are still trying to sort out what it means to be a male in a turbulent society and suddenly you must coach another through waters you have not yet charted.

I have moments where the weight of this is all too much. A moment here and a moment there, just wondering what my next move is. The thing is though then there is a moment. A glance from the kindest eyes. The eyes of my son looking to me to determine his every move. A boy who sees none of my faults. All he sees is everything that he wants me to be. He doesn’t see the things I could have been. He just sees the things that I am. His dad. The force behind that look is the super power they do not tell you about. It doesn’t make 6 am feel any better. It doesn’t grant you patience you didn’t have before. What it does though is give you the strength of hope. Hope for the future, hope that you can be better. Hope that we can all just be as carefree as that little boy looking at his dad with all the pride in the world.

Ozzie, through your eyes I have fallen in love with bikes all over again. The joy they bring you reminds me of just why I love two wheels so much. It also reminds me that it isn’t about fitness, it’s about riding bikes. The freedom that two little dangling feet while you glide into bliss will forever be the happiest I have ever been. That moment your feet leave the ground is the moment my heart flutters. That moment of bliss that we both get to share for I know what it means to you. The connection of father and son. We are not perfect but we are father and son. A bond that no one can take from us.

These are the moments that will shape our struggles. We will not always see eye to eye. But if we can both remember those moments our feet left the ground, we will always find each other again. I hope there will always be a part of you that never forgets that. As you pedal off into the distance that is your life, I hope you remember that your dad is still watching for the moment your feet left the ground. The moment you were free.

What I have learned is that fatherhood is not a state of control, or a moment of perfection. It is looking at a tiny human who sees straight through all the facades you have spent your entire life building and the ability to acknowledge that they see straight through you. The ability to sit in everything that you are and read a book, or go for a walk. That is the lesson. You are everything that you are and none of it matters because you are a father. How does one simply just take that for granted? It is truly the greatest burden in the world.

Ozzie, you have taught me so much in two years. I look forward to a lifetime of lessons from you. I look forward to bike rides. I look forward to hugs. I look forward to besos. I look forward to seeing the person you continue to blossom into.

I love you Ozzie.