Deep in the Woods

On the morning of the day you were born, I sat in a deer stand and almost missed the whole thing. Unfortunately for the deer, my shot didn’t. As I pulled up to the house, your mother was waiting and wailing, half because labor’s a bitch and half because I was dumb enough to be unreachable deep in the woods with a 38-week pregnant wife at home. 

It was just like you to arrive early and on your own terms. You weren’t waiting until your due date, because that would have been too normal, too average. I love that about you. Never afraid to show up and the make the world your own. And once you were ready, you came in a hurry. Your poor mother. She screamed and screamed, but for a short few hours, there you were. 

I wasn’t prepared to become your daddy if I’m completely honest. I had other interests and spent most of my time in the evenings at the bar. But your mother was ready for a baby, and she was getting restless. She did all the research and read every book she could get her hands on. For me, I didn’t expect much to change. It’s embarrassing how wrong I was. 

I held you for the first time, and I melted into something softer than a pillow. You squinted at the bright lights, trying to make sense of the faces that matched the noises you’d heard from inside the womb. Your bright green eyes twinkled, the color of moss on the forest floor. As I watched your tiny scrunched face, I knew then I would forever be tied around your finger. And boy, did that turn out to be the case. Lord, help me. 

But it was hard too. It all came so easily to your mother. She was a natural and I wasn’t. Connecting with such a tiny baby who just wanted mom was difficult for me. I knew then this would be a challenge for me.

***

Your mother and I were so anxious about sending you off to school. But we hadn’t gotten out of the car by the time you slammed your door and ran off to join the other kids. We were a mess, and you were the steady one that day. We stood in the parking lot on that sunny, dew-filled morning in September. 

Life had gotten hard in the years before you turned five. Your mother and I were fighting a lot back then. You heard way too much of it, but you never showed it affecting you. Some kids would have acted out in school or at home, you ignored us went about your business. By then, you were smart enough to understand that it was better for everyone, including you, if your mother and I got divorced. Despite that, moving out of the house and knowing I wouldn’t get to see you every day was the worst thing I’d experienced. 

I picked you up after your first day and asked you how it went and what you learned. You said, “it was only the first day, dad, but I already knew most of what the teacher said. I think it’ll be easy.” You were always intelligent and curious. You knew early on that the world was big, but understood that it was yours to conquer. You outgrew having me help you with your homework about a year later. Not that I was around enough for you to ask. 

In the years that followed, I let my relationship, or lack thereof, with your mother get in the way of being your dad. I didn’t want to deal with her, so I didn’t see you as much as I should have. It was easier to be alone and do my own thing again. I failed you those years. 

***

As you got older and middle school turned to high school, it never dawned on me that I hadn’t heard of you being interested in any boys. In my simple mind, I assumed you just felt there wasn’t anybody out there that lived up to your standard. I would have agreed. Or maybe it was just something you didn’t discuss with your dad, and it was hidden to me. It never crossed my mind that you were gay.

When you came out to me, I wasn’t angry, although I know you took it that way. I was confused, and maybe I was disappointed. With the belief system I was raised with, this was something foreign and shameful. I never thought anything less of you, but I didn’t know how to make my love and support match up with what I thought was wrong. There was also confusion. That there could be something about you that I was so blind to. At that moment, I felt like I didn’t know you well as I had thought I did, and that terrified me. It was something I knew nothing about and another area of your life that I could offer little, or so I thought. 

You sat at my kitchen table, in my cramped apartment, crying your eyes out, scared to tell me. I wish I could have that moment back and give you the support and love you needed. It was there something buried within me. Instead, I dropped you back at your mom’s house that night, wondering if you’d ever want to come back to dad’s apartment again.

It was hard to imagine you dating another girl. I had always pictured your life following a certain path, and this just wasn’t a part of that. 

***

I met your first girlfriend the same day you graduated from high school. It was the proudest day of my life, replacing the day you were born and made me a father. I didn’t even finish high school. Your mom did, but then we met, and not long after we had you. She never went to college. You being a first-generation college student is my legacy. My beautiful, well-educated daughter is my gift to the world. I’m not sure how I pulled it off, and I probably deserve very little of the credit. But I’m sure proud.

I talked to your girlfriend that day, and it was like speaking to somebody in a different language. She was older than you and already taking college courses. She told me about her feminist literature courses and intersectionality or something. I didn’t understand. I existed in a different world than you, but I tried. When you were a little girl, I imagined what it would be like when you brought your first boyfriend over for dinner. I would intimidate the hell out of him and make sure he knew to never break your heart. Instead, I nodded along as this girl used words I pretended to understand. I’m glad things didn’t work out with her. 

As you moved through college and I met more of your girlfriends, it got easier for me to accept them. You held them to a high standard, and they treated you well. Seeing you happy and truly yourself alongside them made me realize how wrong I had been about everything. An ideology that wanted to prevent you from who you really are couldn’t be right. That can’t be the God I know. 

***

And now I’m sitting here crying on the night before your wedding as I write you these words. It will take all of my courage just to give you this letter. 

Tomorrow, I will walk you down the aisle and leave you with your gorgeous bride. Throughout your childhood, I imagined that moment. It may have looked different in my head, but I can now say, I much prefer your vision. Being your dad has been the greatest pleasure of my life, and I’m so thankful to gain such a wonderful daughter-in-law. I wish I had some sage advice to give you as you get married. The only thing I can say is that I know you’ll do better at it than I did. 

I haven’t been the best dad, sometimes I was the furthest from it, but I hope you will choose to remember the good moments we have shared. I hope there are enough memories where I’ve come through for you for all the times I've failed you. As a new parent, you think you’ll have so much wisdom to impart to your child. That you have this infinite knowledge to share with them and set them up for the rest of their life. Turns out, you’ve taught me more than I could have ever given to you. Thank you.