When I first learned you were coming, I was excited, scared, worried and filled with joy. Like your brother before you, I was sure you were a part of my soul, the fourth part of a five-piece whole. I was also sure you had chosen your mum and me as your parents because you too knew that is where you belonged–where you fit.

The day you were born was one of three happy days of my life, the first two being the day I married your mum and the day your older brother was born. Something, however, was different, I felt a stronger bond to you, not more love or a different kind of love. No, the love was the same as I felt for your brother. A bond shared, almost as if we had spent many lifetimes together already, a soul bond.

When you arrived I was immediately assured of this feeling, your squished, pink face looking up to me from my massive arms, so small, so vulnerable, yet no tears or cries of separation issued from your tiny mouth, instead you looked content and cuddled closer, confirming what I felt.

I was delighted to see you, I am sure you too were glad to see me, as if it had been a very long time, and nothing had changed. I didn’t want to let you go, I wanted to hold you forever. Of course as a father, your father I had to give way to the fact that things change and you would grow older and grow apart from me.

When we brought you home, you loved both your mother and I, so sweet, so handsome. At times your mom couldn’t comfort you and I was there, to take over unlike I had been for your brother. We’d lay together your tiny, frail head on my chest asleep, so close, so content.

As you grew and began to talk we were inseparable, always together. A real daddy’s boy your mum would say. You always wanted daddy–My Daddy–as you would say.

Our bond continued to grow.

As of late now 3 and speaking so well, like your brother before you, so smart, talented and beautiful. Everything about you–like your sibling–fills me with pride, joy and love. But, now as you grow and become you, you’ve distanced yourself from me, you now say “I don’t like you.” or “I want Mommy.” You’ve stopped giving me big hugs and kisses before bedtime; you fight your way away from me.

What has changed? Is it me? Are you just going through the phase where you push away to establish independence? Why does it hurt so much?

I miss you son.

I’ll be here when you need me again, always.

Please come back soon.

Love, your Da