Years go by like minutes and it’s hard for me to fathom how another year has already escaped us. Yes, escaped! Every year since you earned the title, I’ve written you, and yet, this year its altogether the same and also so very different. This last year, I have watched and admired your ability to take things in stride, and I’ve also see you at your limit. I have seen you be as tough as nails and also as soft as snow. I have see your beard get longer and longer, while your looks just get better and better… That last part just isn’t fair, but such is life. Ha!

And I have witnessed your uncanny ability to always be our “healer” as your name states. Eli and I both spent countless days at the Doctors’ during this last year and there were times we felt like we knew those Doctors better than each other… But there you were. Holding us up physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, and as a Father and Husband is meant to. There were days when you let us cry, days when you helped us see our own strength, and days when you allowed us to sulk and just go back to bed. You made us laugh when we needed it, and cried with us when that made more sense. And through every loss and emergency we found ourselves in this last year, it was you we leaned on. Because you were always there! Our anchor, rock, and safe place. It might mean very little to anyone who doesn’t know the whole story, but to me and E (and all those babies who won’t know the goodness of your fathering until Heaven), it means the world.

Sometimes when I write you, I wonder if I’ll ever be able to do it without the falling of tears. I doubt it. I just love you too much!

And so I write and continue capturing all I boast about in these still frames of fatherhood and our life that show, beyond a shadow of a doubt, what an amazing (really utterly crazy amazing) Daddy you are. You provide, protect, and love Eli unconditionally. But you also do the same for me, as a mother, without reservation. And though our year was both adventurous and humbling, you won’t see our tears, our pain, our sadness, or our troubles. But you will see smiles, laughter, and you. With Eli: Holding his hand, swinging him in the air, reading him books, running from fireworks, climbing tree after tree, mowing the lawn, driving to school every single morning while also picking him up, sitting with him during the endless Dr’s visits he’s had during his labs at Children’s, posing next to the Colosseum, walking through Venice, riding a Gondola, dressing up at Halloween, and all your attentiveness at being so deeply present with him. It’s the greatest gift he’s ever received, J. I know you know that.

Thank you for loving us. For being so much more than we deserve, but for also being imperfectly perfect. Happiest Father’s Day, my love. xx, Shan

(more…)