There Will be Tough Days

Dearest Hazel,

It’s strange to think about picking up writing to you again because part of me thought that this might be another project that I was destined to abandon. I came up with lots of excuses for why it would be okay to stop. You see, I’ve never been good at finishing the things I’ve started in life, whether they be money-making get-rich-quick schemes, household repairs, or sometimes even friendships. (I guess I could blame the fact that I grew up in an overseas military environment where people came and went, but that’s just a cop-out.) I think I’ve always had the talent to excel, but very rarely have I shown the courage to take the necessary risks to go the final mile. Those are the tough days – the ones that ultimately define you – and I only hope that I haven’t been so cowardly in the past that I cannot change my legacy going forward. I thought of this recently when I told grandpa my favorite quote – never let the person you are today stop you from being the person you can be tomorrow.

For years, I focused on work. I was good at it and I felt that the tangible results of my efforts were a suitable way to define me. People would remember the things I’d accomplished, I rationalized. But now I see that those things are fleeting. Family and friendship are the things that matter most, and these will linger when we inevitably return to the earth. And so I embark on a new journey to do right by the people who matter most and to face the things that have always been barriers to my own success.

Recently, I spent a lot of time trying to avoid the reality that you were born with a heart defect. The day we brought you home from the hospital was the day that we learned you have VSD.  That was definitely a tough day for your mother and me. For a while, we had known that the tests pointed to something being wrong, but it wasn’t until the cardiologists came into the room with a photocopied crude drawing of a heart that we knew it was serious. So many times in my life I’ve focused on the artifacts produced when something is Xeroxed repeatedly, allowing these imperfections to dull the original message. I found it strangely comforting to hone in on the random noise and distortions, as if there was some important message to be deciphered by me alone – so much so that I often missed the point altogether. But that day, as hard as I tried to take my mind elsewhere, I could not focus on anything but the next words to come out of the doctor’s mouth.

You were the one born with a hole in your heart, but it feels like mine is the one that is broken. As we wait to see what happens next, I know that there will be tough days ahead, but I promise you that we will face them as a family.

Love Always, Dad