Dear Son

Dear son, It’s Fathers’ Day today.  I feel compelled buy virtue of your existence to let my mind ponder about you. I’ve never seen you but I heard you are a boy and gosh, it brought me so much joy. No one else but me knows of your existence. Well, with the exception of your mother, of course. Your mother is such a strong woman. 17 years ago when her stomach swelled from my seed, I ran away. It must have been a one-night-stand but fact is; it brought you into this land. She told me of you and I plainly refused to accept. I told her you are not my child [lightning strike me!]. I spat scalding obscenities to your mother, calling her all filthy names. I was afraid of responsibility. And so I ran away. Shame on me.  But in my heart of hearts, I knew the truth. Your mother is happily married now. And I have no right to disturb her peace. And perhaps your peace too. But my dear son, what goes around truly comes around. There are so many stories I need to tell you. But above all, I wish I could just say to you, ‘I’m Sorry’. You don’t have to accept my apology. And neither do you have to accept me in your life. In fact, I wish you never accept me, so I can suffer further because I do deserve the punishment. After I puked all over your mother and abandoned you, God punished me. I was hit by a minor stroke that left me impotent, that is, unable to father any more children.  I’m sitting in a bar now, watching men celebrate Fathers’ Day, talking about their children and families. But here in this corner, I think about you. And I celebrate you. They see me smile and they think it’s the effects of Black Label. If only they knew! One day, my son, I will make it up to. I don’t know how, but I will, one way or the other, sooner or later. I’m a father. And this day is my day too...