Dear Toby (8/27/14)

Dear Toby,

Hey little man. Well I guess if you are reading this you probably aren’t so little. As always, I hope you are doing well. I hope things are good for you. I can only imagine what you are doing now. If you have a job, a wife, your own child. Maybe you are traveling around with friends. Maybe you are in school and hopefully studying. Who know?! I do know that no matter what I love you and I’m proud of you.

It’s been an interesting couple of months since my last letter to you. You had to be taken to the hospital because you had a severe asthma attack. It was pretty insane. You coughed and coughed. To the point in which you couldn’t keep food or drink down. You had a fever and you kept saying your stomach hurt. After a sleepless night for the both of us things finally calmed down. The aftermath consisted of a definite diagnosis of asthma and a host of allergies, including and especially horses.

The hardest part of all is that as a parent you do everything you can to keep you child safe. When you were in the hospital and I had too much time to think, doubts crept into my mind. Thoughts like “did I miss something?” “Should I have acted sooner?” “Could I have prevented this?” In the end though, the realization is that I can’t always protect you. I can’t always be around and watching over. It’s a tough realization to come to as a parent.

The realization is that I can do everything in my power and you could still be at risk of something. That I can keep a car from hitting you and watch you like hawk but a small particle of grass can mess up your breathing. It’s a humbling experience to realize that you can’t do it all. That a little pill that you chew up and swallow protects you better than I can.

I also realize this, that as of now I’m your provider. I pay the insurance so that we can afford the little pill that can protect you. That you still need me to open the little bottle and give you the pill and most importantly need me to remember to give it to you. I also realize that one day, probably like the day you are reading this, that you won’t need me for those things either. That you’ll be doing it by yourself. It will sadden me a little bit but I’ll also be proud of you.

Friend Dad