.349 | to the Tribe, from Dad

Dearest Dyllan, Finnley, and Beckett,

Ten years ago today, you changed my life forever and in ways I never could have imagined.  First Pickle…then Bean two minutes later…and B-Man two minutes after that. The months your incredible Mom and I anticipated your arrival finally led to that magical moment the day you were born.  I was overwhelmed.  A bit terrified if I’m being honest.  How could someone who’d never sufficiently kept a single plant alive beyond a few weeks possibly do all that would need to be done to ensure your collective health and well-being?  Your HAPPINESS?  I can’t speak for your Mom--who by the way, showed more strength in those 35 ½ weeks that preceded your arrival than any person I’ve ever known--but in that moment, I felt destined to disappoint you, all three of you.  Fortunately, that feeling lasted less than the six minutes it took for the three of you to arrive.  Like a first-year teacher, my cup runneth over with enthusiasm for this new adventure.  But also like a first-year teacher, I had no bag of tricks yet.  No life-hacks.  No “this-is-what-you-dos” that I’d hoped would be instinctual for a brand new dad.  Enthusiasm would have to be good enough until your Mom and I figured things out in the ways only new parents can.

That first year was such a blur.  After Finn came home from the hospital following her open-heart surgery, and we had the three of you at home for the first time, I remember checking to make sure each of you were breathing in your cribs by putting a little mirror next to your mouths.  I would touch Finn’s little heart with two fingers to feel it beat; it was the best feeling in the world.  Did you know the name Finnley means “fair warrior”?  How perfect is that?  Finn, you’ve taught our family so much about what it means to be strong.  In 50 years, I’ve never had to endure anything close to what you fought through on your 66th day of life.  It’s not even close.  And ever since that day, you’ve been that fearless warrior that defines your name.  I’m so incredibly proud of who you are and so grateful for what you’ve taught me about strength and perseverance.  You’re my hero.

Beckett.  Sweet Beckett.  You’ve also taught our family what it means to live fully and with everything you’ve got.  Just 20 months into your life, you endured an amputation that would forever change you physically.  Whatever was taken away was certainly replaced by something intangible.  Your constitution is such that no challenge is too difficult to try, no outcome or result deters you from trying again, no endeavor is impossible.  Samuel Beckett once said, “Ever tried? Ever failed? No matter.  Try again. Fail again. Fail better.”  My brave boy, you’ve put these words into action every day of your life and shown the rest of us what’s possible.  You’re such a bright light, a better athlete with one leg than I ever was with two, and I’m forever grateful for your positivity and your resilience.

Dyllan, I remember when you were really little, you asked me and your mom what your story was.  You mentioned Finn’s heart and Beckett’s leg, and you asked us with the sweetest look on your face, “What makes ME special?  What’s MY story?”  Sweetheart, we aren’t defined by the things that happen to us…the things out of our control.  We’re defined by our actions, the way we treat others, the way we make others feel when they’re around us.  When I’m around you, I feel immense joy.  I’m blown away by how your mind works.  Your sense of humor.  Your intense curiosity.  Your incredibly strong opinions about the way the world should be.  Your sense of justice.  I’ll never forget seeing you at the dinner table going to town with some scissors and markers.  Your concentration was intense, your little tongue sticking out while you cut and turned the construction paper. Cut. Turn. Cut. Turn.  “What are you doing, Pickle?” I asked you.  “I’m making protest signs, Daddy.  For Black Lives Matter.”  What?  You were seven years old.  I was raising an activist.  When did THAT happen???  I love how much you care about people, how conversational and curious you are about others’ lives.  I love how present you are all the time.  I’m so grateful for the little girl you are and the incredible woman you will be.  You will move mountains.

Thank you, Tribe, for bringing your mom and me more joy and love in our lives than we even knew was possible.  Ten years ago today, I couldn’t imagine life with three little people; now I can’t imagine my life without you.

Happy Birthday.  I love you so much.

Dad

P.S. Thank you, Brian, for the opportunity. I’m so grateful to you too, and we’re all so proud of the man you are. If the tribe grows up to be like you, I’ll have hit the daddy lottery. Much love.