A Letter to My Son

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Image from Babycenter.com

When a milestone comes along-10th birthday, a solid year of making the honor roll, first day of school-I write my son a letter. I have some saved, others disappeared in the move. But in two weeks, we come to one of the most important milestones in his young life. He will be a freshman in high school.

My friends and family are aware of how very much I love and cherish this child. My husband loves and cherishes this child as well, as if he were his own son. Everyone who meets this amazing young man is charmed and impressed by his intellect, his looks and his manners. Except his peers; they just like him because he has a goofy sense of humor. I don’t know where that came from.

So many parents are experiencing this milestone, but for me, it’s different. Many of the women on my mom’s side of the family carry a gene that causes a fatal disease in males. At least three of my female relatives have watched their infant sons die, and I could have been a carrier. But I’m not. So, when I call my son amazing, I mean it.

I’m sharing my letter to my son with others because I am so incredibly proud of him that I would write it in lights on the roof if I could. And maybe my letter will inspire other parents to write their son or daughter, telling them how loved they are and how wonderful it is to raise them and watch them grow.

Dear Josh,

For 14.11 years, I have watched as you navigated the world in which you live. I watched you push a plastic truck around the sidewalk in Michigan as we walked the bluffs overlooking the lake and the train tracks. I remember that your second word was “Mama,” while your first word was “car.” I remember watching you fall asleep when you were so small and so beautiful, your eyelashes longer than any baby’s had a right to be, your eyes the color of the sea and your little hands, grasping Good Night Moon bunny.

We never went through the terrible two’s, or even the terrible three’s. Your first day of school at Town and Country, I was so thrilled that you would be attending preschool literally 50 yards from my office. I would often sneak down and peek in the door, watching as you learned your colors and the alphabet. I remember 9/11, when the world seemed to crash down around us, and trying to keep from crying as you watched Sesame Street, wondering if you would grow up in a world of perpetual war.

The first time you ever met Jim was miraculous. You were almost 2, and we had no air conditioning in the apartment. Jim and I were starting to talk, not really knowing where things were going, and he sat down on the couch in the living room to watch you play. You toddled up to him and pointed at his car mug filled with water. In your little voice, you asked “Please?” and he held the mug as you drank. I knew then, as sure as I know the moon will rise in the sky, that this was my family.

And here we are. In two weeks, you begin high school. Almost six feet tall, still with eyelashes that make people look twice, and intelligence to spare. You are the best child, the best young man, the best son a person could ask for. You don’t roll your eyes when I get upset about politics or go off on one of my rants, you sort of listen, you hate chores but you do them with minimal grumbling, but most importantly, you are honest, kind and good. You have a huge heart, and you love without abandon.

You are loved beyond measure, you are treasured for all days and you are my most precious child as long as there are stars in the sky.

Mom.

 

About Post Author

Erin Nanasi

Erin Nanasi is an avid underwater basket weaver, with a penchant for satire and the odd wombat reference.
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Carol Maietta
11 years ago

Erin, somehow I missed your post until now. I too have a wonderful son who is 40 years old. I sit here and cry because my second husband just did not know how to accept my son as his own, and I was in pain about that until my husband died last year. In fact, he had a hard time showing love to anyone except me, and I think used this as a defense mechanism. Thanks for the letter.

Jenni Siri
11 years ago

Erin, that is so touching, thanks for sharing! <3

Bill Formby
11 years ago

Erin, great letter and thanks for sharing. Coming from a dysfunctional family myself my mom and stepfather only showed love by the fact that I was clothed,fed and had a roof over my head, but I never heard the words. I knew when I had children I would never let it be the same. As most on the blog know I written a number of times about my two and how great they are and how proud I am of them. In fact, I would imagine that Tonya and Shannon are probably close to your age range. Now I get watch as Shannon passes on the same loving environment he had to my grand children. But, as I am sure you will, I will still be telling both of my kids that I love them and I am proud of them until the day I die.

Gary William Green
11 years ago

The only thing I received from my parents were beatings. At least you are a good mom.

Erin Nanasi
Reply to  Gary William Green
11 years ago

Gary, one of the reasons I am a good mom is that my mom, for most of my childhood and adolescence, was not. I took that experience and swore that I would be better. All we can do is try, ya know?

Jess
Reply to  Erin Nanasi
11 years ago

Break the cycle is all a person can hope for isn’t it?

Jess
11 years ago

Dad?

He was my letter giver, and the one letter I will always treasure is written on a hospital menu the night before he went in for heart surgery and never survived it. Your son will treasure his letters probably more than you will ever know. He’ll be able to look back and know he was loved by an exceptional ‘rental unit.

Erin Nanasi
Reply to  Jess
11 years ago

I still have the last note my mom sent me before she died. Our time here is so short, and if my letters to my son give him a little comfort after I’m gone the way my mother’s notes and cards comfort me, I’m glad. Jess, someday we must meet in person, so I can hug you.

Jess
Reply to  Erin Nanasi
11 years ago

Yep, my aunts gave me one in lieu of their sister, my mother, when I got married and it brought me to my knees, because they said exactly what my ‘rents would have said had they been there. It’s the little things in life that are the best things in life.

M K-A
11 years ago

Beautiful, Erin.

Erin Nanasi
Reply to  M K-A
11 years ago

Thank you. I read it to him yesterday, and he grinned up at me from the floor, where he was hugging the cat against her wishes and said “Cool Mom, I love you too.” 😀

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