Dear William,
I write this letter with the hopes that one day you will read it and perhaps understand why I had to leave every weekend. I hope you read it and will understand how hard it was to look into your eyes and tell you goodbye when you asked me to stay. I hope you read it and will forgive me, and barring that at least understand that I did what I thought was right, even if it was not what I wanted.
Depending on when you read this (either soon after my writing this as your mom has said she will read this to you, or when you are older and perhaps do not even recall the days you asked me to stay) it will probably matter very little. But as a writer I need this out now, because you and your mom mean the world to me, and I hope that through writing I may be absolved of my mistakes, and find comfort in the airing of my difficulties.
Recently I had to drop you off with your great grandparents because your mom was at work and it was past your bed time. You had a little smile and an outstretched hand, eagerly saying, "Come on Daddy, come on." Your eyes had a hint of sadness, like you knew I was leaving and you sought to draw out the night as long as possible, and I have no doubt you knew exactly what was happening, because it is how it always has happened.
I couldn't leave then. You and your mother have this insane ability to look at me with those blue eyes and make me stay. So I followed you in, thinking that I would set you on the couch and then leave. I sat you down, immediately for you to pat the seat beside you and give me that same little smile. "Sit daddy, sit." What was I to do. I had to go, it was late and I had school the next morning. I kissed your forehead and said I loved you and walked out. It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do, hearing you cry and run for me as I closed the door behind me.
I'm sorry I had to go William. One day I'll drop you off to sleep and I'll be there, every night. I promise you this. I had to leave because I don't have the education to make the money to get the house so that we, your mom, you and I, can be a normal family yet. Hopefully by the time you can read this we are, and you never have to see me go again. I know it's hard for you to understand it, even if you are older, but I had to do it.
I can't wait to watch you grow William, and if you are reading this and have already grown then I hope you have turned into every bit the man I know you will. I'll see you this weekend, be you big or small.
