“By the time you read this, Daddy and Mommy will be gone. But you are never alone, kiddo; we are always with you.”
The pen pauses again. My fingers hurt.
“I want you to have the childhood we never had. Your Aunt Mia will keep this letter safe until you are old enough to understand.”
I swallow hard, blinking through the burn in my eyes.
“You are so loved, very proof that something good can grow from something bad.
Being your dad changed me. Even if I couldn’t be a good man to your mom, I still got the chance to be a good father to you.”
I cough harder now. The tissue again stains with blood. I clear my throat and force my hand to keep moving.
“And I hope one day, when you read this, you will be able to tell the world your version of the story. Even if I am not the heroin it, maybe when your kids ask about me, you can tell them how even bad choices can lead to something good.”
My chest burns. I pause, breathe shallowly, then continue.
“Teach them the truth. Teach them kindness. Teach them that good still exists in a world filled with violence. But until then, please listen to my story.”
The pen drags slightly across the paper.
“I made a couple of bad choices. All of them led me to your mom, and for that I am thankful every day. When I lost her, I made another choice. That choice brought you into my life.”
My fingers tighten around the pen.
“In 2017, when your mother died, I went back to the lab. I took samples from her cells and mixed them with mine. That is how I created you. I always knew your mom had a best friend, Mia. And with a heavy heart, I told her my idea. She agreed to try. Even though she still hates my guts.”
I swallow.
“And nine months later, you came into our lives. When the impossible becomes possible, nothing can stop you from chasing the dream you had. My dream was you.”
I write slower now.
“With this letter, there are two tapes. One is from your grandfather. It will teach you that every action has consequences. The second is my own. It will teach you that consequences always catch up.”
My hand trembles.
“When you listen, don’t be afraid. Never be afraid. Learn. Be brave. Accept.”
I stop, then add more.
“Who I was, or who I am, doesn’t define who you are. I gave you life, but you are the only person who gets to live it. So be yourself.”
The ink blurs for a moment.
“There will be days when you feel lonely. Days that feel impossible. Just do your best. No matter how hard it gets, it can always get worse. So live.”
I breathe through the pain in my chest.
“If one day you reach the end of this story and see me as a villain after hearing everything I did, never believe those things define you. They are not your burdens to carry. Maybe you will not forgive me, and that is okay. I forgive you.”
Tears drip onto the page.
“I am proud of you, kiddo. I hope you grow into the powerful, strong woman your mom was. I hope you believe in good when no one else does.
I have to go now. I am tired, and I have no words left. But I need you to know this. You are not just part of our story. You are the reason our story was worth telling.”
I finished the letter.
