Letters From a Son

As a man, there are things I would like to give you. These things are not something that can be bought in a store. They are sensitive to time because time is of the essence and a fleeting aspect in our life. Some of these things I would like to give lose their option with time. Life steps in and the window of opportunity closes. This is fact.

I never gave you the opportunity to walk down the aisle the proper way. There are certain steps we missed along the way, which, I suppose was a result of my choices.

Sometimes I lose sight of what’s around me. I fall off in a sense that my vision clouds and I miss the obviously important picture, which is always much bigger than I consider it to be. I excuse this by rationalizing my selfishness with emotion or whichever issue I have at hand.

I am short tempered, moody, and I can be inconsiderate at times. This is what I mean when I say; I fall off in a sense. When I fall off, I am too quick to speak and too sharp with my tongue. When I fell off, in a sense, I am too quick to judge. Or in our case, I am too quick to misjudge and respond. And I am aware of this fault of mine. Not always. But I am aware.

I promise myself that I will make it up somehow. However, time is always moving and yesterday quickly becomes the day before, and the day before that one. Eventually, time slips away and we miss the chances we had to make things right.

I cannot say what our relationship would have been like had we known each other longer. I cannot say if my defects of character and my occasional inability to respectfully leash my tongue would have been a problem for us. I can’t say if you would have liked me or not. And you might not have, which would have been fine, but it would have been nice to have the chance to try.

As a man, there are things I wanted to give you. And these things are things I should have given you. In the case of some, time has slipped away and continues move. I have come to the understanding that the only true waste of time is when I spend it living with or considering my regret.

I regret that we had very little time with each other. I regret that I allowed my pride and character flaws to determine the direction of our relationship. I regret that we never had the chance to at least try. Whether we would have been successful in speaking is less important to me than this; I wish there was a way that things can be unsaid or undone. However, there is not. And I know this.

As a man there are things I wanted to give you, but again, time slipped away and I missed the window of opportunity.
Something I always compare my craziness to is water losing to the drain. When the temper flares, it is easy to swirl down in a funnel and fall through. And once the spin takes place, it can be nearly impossible to stop. It seems all I can do is fall through the drain. Again, as a man, I say to you there are things I wanted to give you. As a man, this is something I must give you—an apology.

I am not sure where you are now. I am not sure if you can see this, if it helps, or if the simple fact that I feel the way I do is pleasing to you. I suppose as a Father, your one and most important request is that I look well upon your daughter, give her all she asks for, love her, honor her, cherish, and like most married men should do, promptly admit when I am wrong, and apologize not only in words, but in action as well. I would love to tell you that I perfectly adhere to this simple list, but I am far from perfect, and I am furthest from the perfect husband.

I am sorry I never properly asked for your permission to take your daughter’s hand. Most of all, I am sorry, I never had the chance to see you walk her down the aisle and I never had the shot to be your son-in-law the way I would have liked to have been

Today is Father’s Day. Wherever you are up there, I hope you are looking down with a smile. Claire is as beautiful as ever . . . but you already knew that.

I will close this letter here with hopes that my message reaches you somehow and it reaches you well.

Sleep well, sir

For Albert Laucella


One thought on “Letters From a Son

  1. Very touching bro!! Again another great one hope you don’t get sick of hearing it cause I’m gonna keep saying it!

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