Son, A few weeks ago I recall kissing your mom’s sweaty brows as I encouraged Her to push and push harder intermittently. I recall her growing weaker by the minute, her fingers clutching my shoulders in a death grip, her intense green eyes staring deep into my core with that singular resolve only women in labor possess. I asked Doc Crawford for the honour of pulling you out of your mom which she granted without wasting a heartbeat and also gave me the charge of cutting the umbilical cord. You see against every ethos of her practice she sensed a higher purpose beyond this realm; a symbolic need for me to perform this final task to weld you and I, father and son, into one single entity. I have a propensity for nicknames son. I’ve pretty much covertly or overtly nicknamed everything in my life. Family, friends, biz colleagues ; everything. Your mom is Supergirl. Well now Superwoman. I promise you by no stretch is her nickname far fetched. She’s the combination of great looks, brains, grace and sheer guts! She’s got more balls let alone mental strength, than most men I know; present company included. I’ll save the story of her commitment and dedication on this journey for perhaps another day lol. I don’t know where our path will take us tomorrow but it had to be her. It was predestined to be. The finest poets and wordsmiths has written all there is to write about a father’s love for a son. My oratorical or literal prowess can never match theirs no matter how hard I try now or later. But no one alive or dead can or will match what I hold in my heart. My propensity and strength is in my heart son. Always have been. Many …Read More
Source:: The NET
