One year, last Friday, Shaun was born into the world. All the emotions I felt this year are new to me. As I sat by him in NICU, I stared at this little alien being looking up at me with so much wonder. Selflessness was never taught to me. And I never bothered to learn.

Before his birth. Way before his birth. The first time my eyes ever welled up with such emotion was the day I heard his heartbeat. I didn’t know how to react at that moment. I probably should’ve cried. I probably should’ve done a lot more than just cry. Instead, I just stood there. Feeling things. Feeling a warmth crawl over me.

It’s the same way I felt when I looked down at him in NICU. The same way I feel every time the thought catches up with me. This isn’t just some kid who’s related to me, this is my kid. My blood. My lifeline. My immortality.

I’m unsure if this comes with everyone who becomes a father, but every time I watch him seeing me, I wonder if he sees the same thing I saw in my father. If, when he goes home, or when I go home, he thinks of me the same way I thought of Javier. There’s a time a boy’s life when he just gives up on his father’s life. And I don’t want that, not for a second. So when I’m with him, I cover him with kisses.

I wish things were different, but even if they were they wouldn’t be. That’s just the way it is in a relationship with two opposing forces.

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