Sean

Dear Dad, 

I remember the first time our family went skiing and how excited I was to fly down the mountain with my Dad. You looked like a pro from the few times I saw you from the bunny hill. Poles tucked under your arms, knees bent, both skis pointed in the same direction. 

I was awe-struck and couldn't wait to "figure 8" my way down the mountain with my family. All I had to do was learn how to ski. How hard could it be? You made it look so easy. The answer... impossible.

I remember being at the top of the bunny hill with the entire class stumbling our way to the bottom. Poles and skis pointing every direction but down, like a porcupine of incompetence. 

I remember my heart dropping as that all-too-familiar circumstance arose when everybody started learning how to do it except me. The whole class, plus the instructor, had made it to the bottom and were waiting for me. 

I remember those sobbing, whimpering, hiccups starting, which past experience told me was the beginning of the end. 

Everyone would have to wait for me.

I'd never figure it out.

I'd ruin the trip for all of us. 

I finally made it to the bottom of the beginners hill and collapsed amid the rest of the group. All of them rested and ready to go back up the hill to test their new found understanding, and me crumpled on the ground, frozen tears and snot stuck to my face. The other kids started giving eachother those desperate pitiful looks, and the instructor, losing his patience, began yelling at me.

"Just get up!"

"This isn't that hard!"

I was devastated. Sniveling and falling down over and over again, crying in earnest. The beginning of the end. 

Then I heard your voice. I was so ashamed that you'd see how little progress I had made, but instead I heard you say

"Don't yell at my son."

"Do you think that's helping him?"

You helped me up, comforted me, told me that you were taking me out of the class, and that you and I were going to figure this out together. 

Up until that point, I didn't fully understand what a hero was, but the rest of the day with us laughing and learning and sledding down the mountain on our butts, you showed me what a true hero is. 

A true hero is patient, understanding, resilient, and kind. A true hero is selfless, inclusive towards others, and teaches by example. A true hero knows that strength is not force, it is not yelling, but more of a silent companion that fuels resolve. A true hero can literally turn a mountain into a mole hill through humor and mutual respect. A true hero rescues his youngest son from what THEY perceive as a crisis and spends the entire day showing him that learning isn't a one size fits all situation. It is often different for everyone and can be whatever I make of it. 

Dad, you taught me that I can do things differently from others as long as it works for me. Through perseverance, humility, honesty, and teamwork, an impossible situation can be transformed into a loving adventure and a bonding experience for father and son. You didn't stop the lesson there. You have taught me this very same lesson over and over again. That is your gift. That's what makes you a true hero. 

I hope that by recognizing what you've taught me, I can give you the gift of knowing. Knowing that your efforts have always been seen, and that what you have taught us will be passed on to our loved ones. 

I love you so much, Dad. For all that you've taught me, but more importantly, for HOW you taught me. I am so proud to be your son and I'm forever thankful that you're my Dad. You truly are the best Dad in the whole world. 

Happy Birthday,

Sean