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Dear Ethan

Dear Ethan:

With all that’s happened over the last year, it seems ages since I’ve sat down and just thought of you. It seems like just yesterday, I carried you, wrapped in blankets down the hall to meet your grandparents for the first time.

I remember rocking you to sleep and the endless hours of singing old Jimmy Buffett songs.

You and I have constructed thousands of miles of train tracks, read Dr. Suess backward and forward and ridden our bicycles across the city.

I’ve watched you grow from a small, busy little red-headed boy into a remarkable young man and I’ve laughed out loud at some of our Boy Scout camp out adventures.

Yes, you amaze me.

It would take far too many words to list the faults and the mistakes I’ve made in trying to raise you. Yet, somehow, inspite of my own inept attempts at parenting, you managed to grow into a happy, strong and creative teenager.

You smile, you’re happy and you care about those around you — all traits, my son, which will carry you far.

I love the fact the alter boy who knows his Catholic hymns by heart, also groves on AC-DC, Ben Folds and can quote me the lyrics to most songs by the Beatles or Led Zeppelin.

You make me smile.

Watching you with Zach or seeing you play with the smaller kids in the neighborhood remind me that there is good in everyone.

I also love the way you listen to others.

Many times, when you didn’t think I was listening, I would overhear you talk to your sister.

She would tell you her problems and how she felt and you would be there as the sounding post.
For you, that moment — and Sara’s problems — were the only thing that mattered.

You listened. And you actually heard what was said.

I wish more people were like you.

Your intelligence, your good heart and the simple fact that you put others above yourself have all been combined to make you a great kid.

The fact that you are creative is an additional bonus.

You have become an excellent cook in your own right, and I feel secure in the knowledge that even with just a few eggs, some bread and milk in the fridge, you won’t starve.

Of course, you could do with a little more laundry training; but overall, I’m sure you will do fine when you’re on your own.

Ethan, I probably don’t tell you enough, but I love you with all my heart. I smile as I think of the two of us studying at the kitchen table or doing our homework together.

The past year has been a difficult one for our entire family and yet, you dealt with the fear and the pain with remarkable ease and grace.

I am so proud of you.

And I am so proud to call you my son. Know that wherever you go and whatever you do, I will always love you. And know that I will always proudly call myself your father.

Sincerely,

Dad

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