TO MY FAILING SON
Aging is turning out to be a blissful death: the kind I wish on you. It's a kind of bliss gifted only to those who live with no lingering regrets.
In the pursuit of your dreams, don't get accustomed to the almost-happy endings followed by spirals of misfortune; don't worry yourself about them either. Sometimes your most constant companion on the path to success is failure.
Live through disappointments and rejections knowing that in a future not too far away, you will find happiness in such a constant succession as you have seen pain. Good fortune is a much friendlier companion than failure; and a much harder companion to shake off.
I hope that when things seem to get better for you, that they actually do.
That when you do find happiness, it's the lasting kind - not the kind that comes into your life with the sole purpose of leaving you more distraught than before it came. That your chance at true love is not an empty promise, and your hope is not once again broken. I hope that when life seems to get better for you, that it actually does: that you are not grifted out of the bliss you deserve no matter how many times you fall into doubt.
I hope that at every turn life, and God, and all of the infinite beings of our cosmos care only about putting a smile on your face, and a miracle in your hands.
I hope that you
finally, know joy.
And if you must,
stumble through life.
But do it as gracefully
as the birds collide
with sullen clouds.
I Love you.