This is 22

 
Today is Sean's birthday.

Somehow, despite everything in life, I can say that I was part of producing something fantastic.

I've listed his attributes many times and I'm content to not be the dad who thrusts his kid in your face constantly. To that end, I'm sorry if you think I do.

I also don't try to live his life for him. There's a reason that I accepted it when Sean decided to stop playing baseball after five years.

I wanted him to be him. That's who he is.

He does things on his own time.

Yes, he's following in my footsteps in many ways and I'm sure there are those who are bothered by it but he's simply finding his way. So far, it's working just fine.

Eventually, there will be a parting of some kind. He'll veer off into whatever it is that he wants to do.

And we're not twins. Don't think that. Yes, we travel together and have similar interests. Yes, he looks a bit like me (and my dad). Yes, he's snarky like me.

Conversely, he'll never put a sporting event on TV. He likes to be on his headset talking to his friends while gaming.

He can break down stuff in the Marvel Cinematic Universe and likes Pokémon and other stuff that I don't necessarily get.

He collects Transformer figurines. I collect sports stuff.

He sleeps later than I do (he's 22 after all).

We each move to the beat of our own drummer.

But I don't know anyone who has anything bad to say about him. Not that I suppose anyone would tell me.

I treasure the memories. No matter what negative came out of that part of my life, I got a son. I always wanted to be a father and always believed I'd be a decent one.

I hit the jackpot with Sean. From the day he was born, he was a very easy child to raise.

That's not to say he didn't test me or make mistakes. Oh, he definitely did.

With Rascal before blowing out his candle

But I'll always remember that glow I felt as I wheeled him from the delivery room in the hospital. I remember feeding him his first bottle and taking care of him and getting over my own anxiety of caring for him correctly.

I remember the many mornings of daddy/baby time.

I remember dancing with him to the "SpongeBob SquarePants" theme song every time it was on.

I remember him telling me about a dream he had that featured "Eleanor Rigby" when he was maybe five.

I remember the pride he had when he told me he had school locker number 55 -- in honor of Daddy.

And I remember the trips, the brief years of playing baseball, the adventures, and so much more.

It wasn't all easy. In fact, there were pretty tough spots where he didn't or couldn't know what I was dealing with. I always protected him from things but we also shared some pretty important conversations. To that end, we were always honest with each other.

I've come to learn how much he was bullied in school and I wish I had known more at the time but he felt there was nothing that could be done. Maybe so but I would have liked to try. It changed some of his personality to where that easy smile wasn't as prevalent.

But he persevered. He was never a victim.

He sat with me today at lunch and said he could never be dishonest with me. I suppose that means I did a few things right.

He's respectful and incredibly funny. 

And he's 22.

I'm proud of you.

And mighty proud to be your father.