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If this letter doesn’t get to you on time, that means I’m not with you anymore. Which is a shame considering that I love you so much. But know that I’m looking down on you wherever I may be. I hope this letter gets to you in a time of need. I want you to understand and read these words with as much intent as you can.
I’m writing this as I watch you train with your new coach. You’re sixteen years old and God, you’ve gotten so big. I remember seeing your joyous little giggles in that run-down go-kart while lapping the kids behind you. They didn’t like you because you were better than them, but you didn’t care. All you did was cackle as if you were a supervillain. I knew at that moment that you were made for motorsports.
I walked in that day, with the intention of meeting an old friend to talk about a racing candidate who was interested in my sponsorship. But you caught my attention, that handsome little adorable face with a fight I knew would make you a legend.
Little did I know I would eventually call you my son and the light of my life. Because you are, Xavier, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. Even your mother doesn’t reach the level and capacity of adoration I have for you.
Don’t tell her I said that.
You brought me the best things in my life. I never thought I would love as I have with you and your mom. I was alone before you two and now I’m filled with warmth.
The first time you called me dad and referenced me as your father to other people, I cried; you didn’t notice it because I walked away. To be able to be called your father is a privilege. The man who was supposed to have that name failed you and I vowed that day that I wouldn’t.
You didn’t, Dad.
But the reason I’m writing you this letter is because if I’m not there with you when you turn thirty, you need to know a few things about yourself.
Firstly, you’re strong. Your last name was bestowed upon you for a reason. The way I’ve seen you fight through your situation is something not every child and teen can handle. You don’t give yourself enough credit for that. Begin to honor the resilience you hold.
Secondly, you’re a people pleaser. I don’t mean this in a bad way. Wanting people to like you is natural.
But you, Xavier, want to please everyone.
I remember when I went to a convenience store with you one time. You were ten. You went around telling all the men that they looked handsome and the women that they were beautiful. I knew at that moment you wanted everyone to feel loved. The love you never got from a father, you reciprocated that by making people feel appreciated. It’s one of your best qualities. The only worry I have about this is that one day you’ll sacrifice the things you love because you’re scared of people hating you. Let them dislike you. It’s human nature.
Lastly, you think you’re a mistake. Right here and right now is when I tell you that you are not one.
Read that again.
I know your mother has probably told you this millions of times and maybe even people you’ve grown close to have said these words as well. As your father, I want to ingrain it into your brain and tattoo it on your skin.
Once you start realizing that life is something you need to grasp by the balls and live it with everything you’ve got is when you’ll truly flourish. As of right now, the only thing that you’ve let yourself have is your dream of Formula One. It’s a dream I knew I wanted to grow with you. But one day, knowing you, Xavier, you’re not going to want to let it go when it’s time. This is because for years the way you’ve punished yourself is by not being selfish.
Be a self-center motherfucker at times and don’t apologize for it.
If I’m not with you there right now, then know that my memory isn’t laced in your legacy. It’s inside of you, Xavier. You are the memory of me because you’re my greatest achievement.
I am proud you call me dad. It’s the title I’m the proudest to have earned.
I adore you, Xavier Valente. Always know that no matter where I am.
Eu amo você.
- Seu Pai
Tears blur my vision; his words are both a testament to the depth of his love and a cruel reminder of the void left in his absence.
The ache intensifies, as if his presence lingers on this desolate beach, his voice carried by the wind, his essence etched in the sand.
I fold the letter with trembling hands, clutching it tightly against my chest.
The waves crash relentlessly, mirroring the tumultuous emotions surging in my chest.
But amidst the pain, amidst the desolation, I find a flicker of solace. Because in this gut-wrenching journey of not having him by my side, I discovered a strength I never knew I possessed.
The scars that mark my mother’s heart and my own have become testaments to living a life.
Because damn, life is hard.
