Buddhists say it is the child who chooses
So I do not own you
You are your own man
You have your personality and talent and hope.
And unlike me,
me as your father.
You have such a gentle soul inside a giant’s body,
There is a role for men like you,
it will find you,
as will the love of a woman
that is worthy of your gentle soul.
I may be away on battles,
but that is not neglect.
I am looking at your future.
I love you as God’s gift to me to be me,
Often in the grips of absent minded passion,
Or even carelessly self-obsessed
with my own sadness, grief and fears.
Maybe take my absence
as you treat space between notes in a beautiful song.
But try, if you can, to never forget:
I love you more than the stars,
More than the sun
because I can hug you across distance as only your father
Go on - Be imperfect!
Be in the grips of passion
Be self-obsessed, sad and human
Be whatever you chose:
Passionate, talented, and what ever else you do.
And, if it’s meant to be:
Be the man one day
Who can be a dad
Who can teach the son to be a father and a man.
It’s your way that has my blessing.
It’s the path of my one beloved son.