Son, Husband, Father

I was fortunate to be raised by the greatest father I’ve ever known.

He modeled humility, kindness, compassion, affection, intelligence, loyalty, and fairness to me.

I was not always his best student.

I did not appreciate many of those lessons in his lifetime.

But as the years have passed, since my father left this world, the lessons he did teach have had a greater and greater impact on me.

Some 15 years later, after cancer took him from this world, my mother and I still talk about how he would approach all of the things that happen in our lives, both personal and professional.

In whatever form his spirit resides, I hope that he knows what kind of impression he left on me and how much I miss him.

I look back on the life he gave to both my mother and myself.

I look back on what he sacrificed, where he compromised, where we grew as a family because of the gifts (both material and emotional) that he gave us.

And learning a lot about what kind of man to be didn’t guarantee I would easily become that man.

I had a lot of missteps along the way.

During his lifetime, my father would remind me about the path he was forging for me to follow; one I feel I’ve done a lot better with the older I’ve become.

Becoming a husband was a role I thought I could magically adapt to: just get married and the pieces would fall into place.

That’s not exactly how that went for me.

But becoming a father set me on a trajectory where, little by little, I started to understand just how challenging and rewarding it would all become.

I have two sons: Jackson, from my first marriage, and Sebastian, with my wife Marissa.

And they both add more joy to my life than I have ever or will ever be able to express.

Having a child who is neurodivergent and a child who is neurotypical, inspires me to pivot and adapt to each of their needs.

I can still be a loving and attentive father, but the skills required to do so look a little bit different for each of them.

I can watch as my boys grow in age and see a type of bonding between them I can be proud of.

Father’s Day for me, since 2011, has remained bittersweet: difficult because of the man I lost and beautiful because of the boys I have the privilege of being a father to.

The words that ring from the page my father wrote to me many years ago ask a simple question: How do I write to inspire?

Here’s to the many fathers out there who continue to inspire the children (or stepchildren) they walk through this world with.

Do amazing things.

Be extraordinary people.

And if we’re lucky, those same children will teach us lessons we might have never learned without them.

To my boys, Dad loves you. Opa does, too.