The Budget of Paradox

Sophia,

I remember the summer before you were born. I remember the day you were born. I know who was in the delivery room. I even have video taken that day. Have you ever seen it? I remember when your sister met you for the first time.

Of course, I was happy to be a father again. You didn’t cry the first day. I remember holding you and wondering what kind of a life lay ahead for you. But I also had a lot on my mind. Three days later, I left for Iraq. I often asked myself, “Self, how could you walk away from your newborn child?”

The answer, unfortunately, is that your mother and I needed money. And going to Iraq was a great way to make money fast. I didn’t pick my departure date. In fact, if you had been born three days later, I would not have seen you at all until 2009. As odd as it sounds now, I was doing everything I could to keep the family going. I would have unhooked the stars for you.

Good timing is something you and I never had.

The first time I heard you cry was over a satellite phone when I was in Iraq.

I was always coming or going. One of my saddest memories is meeting you in 2011 at the Lynchburg Airport after a long deployment, and you asked me, “Are you daddy?” That shit broke my heart. That shit cuts to the bone.

I regret that things turned out like this. I can blame lots of people — myself included. But things just unfolded as they did without a plan and without any idea how the future would look. I didn’t think the future would look like this, but here we are.

I love you and miss you. It’s your 16th birthday but I’m not there. I don’t blame you for being disappointed in me. Maybe someday you can at least understand that I didn’t want today to be like this. I should be there, celebrating with you. This should be a happy time for both of us.

Happy Birthday, SoBe
Dad

Maybe send me some photos? I don’t even know what you look like anymore.

I sent you some flowers and a box with a few things. Did you get them?