A Very Special Occasion

When I was younger I used to make a big deal about special occasions. Usually over the top, "let me show you how much I care" sort of spectacles (which now that I think about it would've been perfect for this social media age).

As I grow older, redefine what is important to me, and come to truly understand how actions speak infinitely louder than mere words, I'm less and less inclined to use a special occasion to say things I feel every day...but I know how you appreciate these things on your birthday =]

Every day you do the job of two people with barely a complaint. Every day you are an amazing mother to our son. Every day you give me the peace and strength I often find so difficult to muster for myself.

Every day these past few years and these past 8 months proves to me that it is indeed possible to find a love that is selfless and unwavering, and more and more how impossibly lucky I am to be a recipient of it.

Wishing you the happiest of birthdays. I know this year we couldn't make all your wishes come true, but here's to rectifying that in 2021.

Parenthood

Sunday marked the close of the latest chapter of my life and the opening of an entirely new one. Yet over the course of roughly the past two years, Life has deigned to test my resolve, my commitment, and my tenacity. As I've progressively struggled to complete even the most menial of tasks, as usual, as always, my wife has been by my side. She continues to prove to me that it is indeed possible to love selflessly without fear and reservation. Yet for all the issues I've had with my health, both in the past and in the present, absolutely nothing compares to parenthood.

I distinctly remember watching The Two Towers with my dad and him specifically pointing out the scene between Theoden and Gandalf. That no parent should have to bury their child. Truer words have never been spoken. Regardless of the medical terminology, seeing his face, his tiny hands and feet, I couldn't help but feel like a father that had lost his son. Not a single day goes by that he doesn't cross my mind.

The fear. The anxiety. The hope that can suddenly turn into despair. It's been a better part of a year now that we've been afraid to share good news in the case it might turn into bad news. Allowed important relationships to deteriorate and sacrificed travel and connecting in the pursuit of parenthood once again. We always remind ourselves that those that matter don't mind, but it is difficult when time doesn't stand still and life goes on. I imagine once again having friends and family visiting to reconnect the threads that bind us and it gives me peace of mind. A hope that will remain hope.

These thoughts that have swirled and crashed inside my mind are finally seeing the light of day. To put them into words, to define them, describe them, and leave them here felt like a necessary step before I take my next one. To remember my first son as I welcome my second.

And so I welcome Theodore Koob Hmoov Vang. Happy birthday Theodore! You have your entire life ahead of you and I will try my very best to provide you with love and support to accomplish everything you wish. Your mom and I are so very excited and overcome with joy at your arrival. You are truly a blessing and there aren't enough words to describe what you mean to us. Oh the places you'll go!

Happy Mother's Day

One of the reasons I fell in love with you is because I always knew you'd be an amazing mother. You've always had a way with children, and you've always shown a genuine concern and love for our nieces and nephews. Over the past 6 months, it's been amazing and enlightening to see the excitement and joy that so readily radiates from you each time we talked about and planned for the birth of our son. I've never felt such a strong sense of purpose and hope for the future. I've never loved you more or felt closer to you. And now, after everything, especially after everything, I've never been more sure of how right I was.

Take solace. The day will come when our children will tell you how great a mother you are...but for now, have faith that I know you already are.

Happy Birthday To Me

You often ask me why it is that I’ve never written you poems, or written about you in blogs, or done this or that and how and why I used to for others (to which I have to ask, What others? ^_^), and it’s always been difficult to put to words. But the truth of the matter is that’s why I’ve never put it to words…always before I’ve used words as a medium to describe my feelings, thoughts, and experiences. To clarify the cloud in my mind and fit the varying puzzle pieces together. To make sense of things. To find the calm I always felt flying would give me; the chaos and pettiness of being grounded to fall away.

And I have. There aren’t words to describe how much strength and support I receive each and every day knowing that you love me. There aren’t words to describe the gratitude and appreciation I have for everything you do for me and my family. And there aren’t words to describe the clarity and calm I have with you by my side.

It had been 18 years since I'd been to Colorado Springs. Stood on the stone tiles of the terrazo. Seen the sun reflected off the chapel spires. Heard the footfalls of thousands of cadets marching in step. You gave me the courage to face and the knowledge to realize that a life I felt and dreamt would be the only one I had was false. THIS life - The person I have become, the memories I cherish, the moments I've experienced would never have been. -WE- would never have been. So regardless of the hardships we face, the daily struggles we deal with, and the setbacks we suffer, I would never trade them away if it cost me you.

But back to the topic at hand...my birthday. You often ask what I’d like to do or what I'd like to buy and get annoyed that I don’t want anything. I would say that it’s not because I don’t want anything; I would say because I’m fine. I’m content. I’m happy. Just being. Wherever that happens to be or whatever we happen to be doing. With you.

Thank you, once again, for the gift you give me every year. Happy Birthday to me.

Happy Birthday

**taken from a Facebook Note, 12/16/2015**

Tonight I'm reminded of how tiny and insignificant I am in the face of an ocean that seemingly has no ending and an island that began millions of years ago. And although that may be true, our worth, our purpose, and our short time in this world can make lasting impressions on one other just as vast and profound as Mother Nature's can.

As this year draws to a close, I'm reminded of all the memories we've made, joyful and sad - as Inside Out would call them...core memories. Memories of a reception I, we, had no right to be nervous for. Memories of my stay, our stay, within the confines of a hospital room, and memories of my struggle, our struggle, to return to normalcy. You've occupied such a short amount of time in my life, but when I think of how much I've learned, how much I've grown, and how much I've experienced with you by my side, it's difficult to picture what life was like before you and yet so easy to imagine what it will continue to be with you.

I'm reminded of my nervousness standing at the altar waiting for you to enter. It was humbling to realize that after all this time, the same nervousness and excitement I felt sitting in our ice cream parlor booth still existed within my being. Waking up next to you for the past 3 years didn't prepare me for what it would feel like to see you walking down the aisle, as beautiful as I've ever seen you, with the hope and joy of knowing there were no take backs, no returns, no exchanges. =]

I'm reminded of the nights spent on the phone with the glow of the heart monitor filling the room. More than that, I'm reminded of the nights you spent sleeping on a cot next to my bed. How difficult and different it must have been, but never once did I see you waver or grow weary. Months you spent traveling back and forth, caring for me, running errands for me, providing for me my only link to the outside. I've always known, always told you, that I didn't believe anybody could or would love me as much as you do. It's a sensation I've felt almost since the moment I met you and has given me more comfort and security than you know...seeing you make the trek every day to and from the hospital only reinforced that and my heart swells with emotion again at the thought.

I'm reminded of when I finally decided to wake up. Days I will never recall, but days of fear, worry, and uncertainty inflicted upon you and the rest of my family. My first thought, first fear was of you leaving. It's a deep seated feeling I've always had; the thought that came to the forefront of my mind was that no one else in my life had stayed. Everyone who had reached this point, this threshold, this road block...everyone who had had to make a decision to continue forward or turn away, had always chosen the latter. I didn't want to let go of your hand, didn't want you out of my sight, but you assured me you weren't going anywhere...and through it all, from the days I could barely make it out of bed to the days I got so upset for not being able to do anything on my own, you stood by me without a single word of regret or contempt, always encouraging me and helping me move forward, always proud of me for my small successes and happy for me at my larger ones.

And so here we are, in Hawaii, the first place you asked me to take you, a promise you didn't sincerely think would happen, to celebrate your 30th year of life. I hate to say that you deserve it, but for this past year, these past 4 and a half years, this is the least of what you deserve. Thank you for everything you've done for me, for us, and for our families. To many, many more years, of laughter, of tears, of new experiences and renewed ones, and of life. Happy birthday my love.

The Line

My life has been filled with valleys and peaks, ups and downs, gradual descents and careful climbs, but the memories that reside on the surface of my mind are of the plateaus with the inexplicable cliffs and the unscalable mountains with nary a handhold. It's in these memories that one wrong step would send me over the edge or a misplaced hand would have me grasping air. It's in these moments I've always struggled to see the hands reaching out to pull me up or hear the voices calling out for me to watch my step.

I've never been an oblivious person, and yet have always disregarded the strength that has grasped my hands and the warnings that have undoubtedly found their way to my ears. I've lost friends and pushed away family in my struggle to find peace within myself first, unwilling and afraid to share the chaos that ultimately resides inside of me...the battle that rages between sadness and joy, apathy and purpose, resignation and hope...The Line that has guided the direction I have traveled for the better part of 13 years.

I've always had a tenuous balance walking this line, ever terrified of slipping into the darkness below with no way to climb back into the light...and with this fear, I've always refused to allow another to walk beside me - not because I'd be unable to support or guide them, and not because I'm afraid they'd disrupt my own focus, but because if I did fall, what would happen if I reached out and was met with emptiness? Worst of all, if I was to fall, what would happen if they fell with me? I never wanted to place that burden on someone, just as I never wanted to accept that responsibility, but these questions were always at the forefront of my mind...

But you never gave credence to my concerns let alone to my questions.  You never let me turn you away, never took my reservation as a slight, and instead you convinced me to take your hand and bring you with me...and instead of unsteadiness, I found stability. Instead of a hindrance, I found relief...but most of all, I found love - not the modern word filled with responsibility and expectation, but the pure ideal unburdened and free of the strings so often attached to it.  A feeling I never believed could be constant and unwavering, but continues to be so...

You answer my questions every single day with the concern in your eyes, the worry in your voice, and the care in your touch, and the line that has not disappeared or become less treacherous has instead become easier to walk, with you. You've brought feeling back to my cold hands, hearing back to my deaf ears, and I'm now able to grasp the strength offered me and heed the warnings given me, without reservation, without shame, without fear. For that, you have my gratitude, but for everything else, you will always have my love.

Apologies

I've never been one for apologies, but please let me explain myself...when I say "apologies", I mean apologies that are coaxed, forced, or otherwise disingenuous. For all intents and purposes, I am not even angry when I hear them, but skip past anger and go straight to disappointment and wonder.

I wonder to myself how anyone could believe that an apology would be accepted AFTER everyone found out the details of an event. Oh, so you are sorry that you got drunk, got pulled over, and were 3x over the legal limit? Would you have been sorry if you didn't get caught? Would you have been sorry if you luckily got home safely and no one had been the wiser? I doubt it.

I understand that sometimes when we say something or do something it can be construed in a way we didn't intend, or affect people we didn't realize it'd affect, and sometimes I'm sorry for the misunderstanding or unintended consequences, but it's been a long time since I've consciously though through the words I'd say or actions I'd perform and been sorry for it afterward.

I'm a big believer in accountability. I'm a big believer in learning, each and every day, and when you combine the two, I'm a big believer in knowing right from wrong, especially as you get older and presumably wiser. So why is it that the older we get, the more apologies we issue and hear, as if we aren't in control of our own words or actions, and that someone else could possibly have been responsible for them instead of ourselves?

Bottom line is: If you aren't sorry the moment you do it or say it, or even better, you choose not to do it because you know you'd be sorry afterward, then you aren't sorry at all.