It was a major explosion. I don't remember shouting so loud for a long, long time. Maybe it's the hardest I ever bellowed.
To a point, my heart told me to stop. Not the emotional kind of telling me to stop, but the physical kind, warning me that if I didn't stop, it will.
It was my son. Over much about nothing. It was during a time when he was sleepy and cranky, a wrong time to test his boundaries.
He asked for an orange and demanded me to feed him while his hands hung loose beside him. I was waiting for him to say the right things and make it more acceptable for me to feed him on request, but after a long while of asking in different ways, by me and then my wife, the requests became demands, then screaming for me to stop and whacking me in angst.
I will spare you more heart-wrenching details.
Then, the explosion, and Noah was stunned into silence.
The effort required for him to blurt out the words, "I am sorry, I will stop!" It nearly took a cardiac arrest.
Noah, if you get to read this, Daddy is sorry.
Daddy became a monster, and I hope I never need to become one again.
Nonetheless, I want you to remember that night.
Because, I am your friend, the person who spends almost every minute of your off-school hours with you. I am your guardian, your chef, your shower buddy, your biggest fan, your teacher, your playmate, your bolster at night.
I am the only man who loved you before you were born till forevermore.
|Picture credit: One Eye Click|
But first and foremost, and I want you never to forget.
I am your father.