Dear Dad,
As I watched Max run around during his soccer game I thought of you. I know how much you liked watching me and my brothers play sports.
Now I get it.
There was something magical about seeing Max in his uniform, running up and down the field with a sense of pure joy made me tingle.
It's moments like this that I regret not being able to talk to you. I want to know what moments gave you that same kick. I want to know what you liked about being a dad, what you regret and what you feel when you see your grandson -- or me as a dad.
We never had conversations like these; that's another regret.
Dear Therapist,I had this scary dream.
Max and I were lost somewhere and a stranger offered to give us a ride. First, they took us to their club. There, we were wined and dined and eventually Max took off to play with the other children.
After awhile, I realized Max wasn't coming back. I tried to go to him but was stopped by a man.
"You can leave, he said. "But he's staying here."Trying to get Max was useless. There was too many of them.
"I'm staying," I said.
"Don't do it for him," the man said. "In a week he won't remember you're his dad. In six months he won't recognize you at all."
I stayed.
I saw Max disappearing from me. I could see him from a distance. But he never looked at me.
One day, he was in a line of children and he was about to pass right by me without so much as a glance in my direction."I love this boy," I said repeating the phrase I say to him every night before he falls asleep.
He turned toward me and gave me a puzzled look.
So therapist, "What's it mean?"
"What do you think it means?"
I woke up about then with such mixed strong emotions. I was scared to lose my boys. And I was somewhat satisfied to know that despite him not even being three-years-old, there is an unbreakable connection. I felt like it meant that my boys will remember me no matter what.
Dear Dad, 
