Being daddy is one facet of our identity that was never in doubt.
It always came super easy, naturally, the only thing that ever did.
Finally, I found someone precious enough to not let down.
Notwithstanding too many years of learning how not to shout.
Slowly, painfully, I destroyed the monster I had come to be through little fault of my own.
Piece by piece I rebuilt myself into a human to cherish rather than sit on my tarnished throne.
Each step made the next easier to take.
A self-fulfilling prophecy.
Fait accompli.
No more bodies left in my wake.
My baby boy gave me a brand new life from his very first breath and a look in my eyes.
He gave me a purpose, a mission, a sacred charge to stop surviving and begin to thrive.
A reason to stumble down this path toward healing.
Generational wounds.
Lingering traumas.
An honest reflection, finally, on how I was living.
Counting up missed opportunities to evolve beyond pride and put my ego in its place,
Ignoring my many responsibilities in deference to a crazy dream I would forever chase.
A shimmering mirage of the life I was owed.
By all my privileges.
And my many gifts.
The je ne sais quoi of my magnificent soul.
Hubris can’t begin to explain the complete blindness to my very human faults.
Fear is much closer as I failed to imagine future failure as the most likely result.
Failing upwards, of course, with a cis male identity.
Always another chance.
Another day. Another dance.
More avoidable mistakes on the way to ignominy.
Our one saving grace was his beautiful face and a promise of charity for evolution.
Heartache disappearing as we discovered the way toward our inevitable conclusion.
We would finish healing, of course, as a final step.
Leave it all behind.
A guide to remind.
Nothing’s more precious than all the living still left.
