So, I’m not sure how many of you parents out there do this.
I feel a bit alienated right now, thinking that I could be one of the few.
Some of you may think I’m insane but I feel that this idea is worth a mention.
Bare with me now. This isn’t the easiest thought to share…

I recently realized that I intentionally think some frightening thoughts.

Sometimes, I think about my son dying.
Other times, I think about him receiving a serious injury.
Some days, I’ll think about him becoming fatally ill.
I probably sound crazy.

I’m not a worry-wart.
I don’t like to invest much in the future (since, what we imagine might never happen).
I feel like my only true weakness, the one thing that can just bring my world to a halt
– crashing down in a monstrous explosion, a blazing fire, and then a vast emptiness –
is my son leaving me.

Then I begin thinking about him suffering.
I think of him as if he were sick, or maybe injured, in a hospital bed with no trace of a smile on his magnificent face.
This is the part where I start to feel my heart squeeze. The lower sacs of my eyes feel heavy.
I don’t want to be without my champ.

But it could happen. And I think doing this self mental scare, is my heart and mind working together to prepare for the worst.
I think I’m building up a defense for myself, to alleviate the potential shock and pain.
Although it is sometimes hard to bare, I suppose it’s not a bad thing. Maybe there’s some good to come from it.
So, if you do this to yourself too, – or just simply get inside your head sometimes – know you’re not alone there.

I’m 22 and I’m supposed to think I’m invincible.
If a team of kidnappers snatched my son, I am confident I would turn into a real-life version of Liam Neeson on their pitiful backsides.
My knees, however, get weak every time I think of my son in a pain that I can’t remedy.
My heart-strings pull when I think that I could die tomorrow, and he be without a father’s direction.

But, thinking about it now could make me stronger for the future; It very well may prevent a later pain that would otherwise turn me into a soul-crushed zombie.
I know preventing that would be a good thing, because – even as a four year-old – my little man would hate me to waste my life simply because I couldn’t deal with my heart being crushed.
He knows a superhero, like me, is stronger than that.
I, however, am not at all sure.

I’ll tell you what, though:
after I take a breath and I know my son is as safe as he can be,
I don’t take one second that we have spent together for granted.
Honestly, that is a greater gift than some parents ever know.

My son is my weakness and my greatest strength.



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