To You – Letter #2
October 31st, 1992
You were so adorable tonight in your Batman costume. I wanted the Ross Perot, but your mother didn’t think you’d like it. I’m guessing she was right, but hey, what do I know. I’m just “dad” right?
By the way, when I tell you not to get into your candy, I mean it. You thought I didn’t see, but I did, I just didn’t say anything. It’s for your safety, believe me, I know the temptation, I was a kid before. God, you’ve grown so much. Five years old already, nearly six. I can’t even believe it’s come this far.
Not sure why I decided to write tonight, I haven’t written in a long, long time. It’s been difficult these last few months, I lost my job, then you got sick. It wasn’t easy seeing you go through all of the pain of chemo, but thats what this entire Halloween was about. We got the green light, you’re in remission, the cancer is gone and we have our son back again. I missed these moments, but you’ve been smiling every day. For some reason your smiles made me hurt more than your crying, maybe because you, my little boy, were stronger than I was. You were going to be alright, and I was the one falling apart.
You’re sleeping now, laying right here beside me as I write this out. You’re so peaceful when you sleep. I should have taken you to bed hours ago, but when you came down from your sugar high, you cuddled up against me, and fell asleep, and I haven’t had the heart to carry you away. I will, but, maybe after just a little while longer.