My dear son, you can see that I’m growing older… Please, be patient with me!
My dear boy, you can see how time flies and how the years change me? I ask you to be patient with me.
Try to understand me in those moments when I need you, and know there will be more of those moments.
Please, don’t get annoyed if I start repeating myself, telling you the same story a second, third, or even fifth time. Remember how, when you were little, I patiently taught you to say your first words and repeated the alphabet over and over until you knew your letters. Remember how many times I explained the same thing to you until you understood. I never grew tired because you were my son, my own flesh and blood.
Now, just listen to me, even if it feels like you’ve heard it all before.
Don’t be upset if I walk slowly, if I can’t keep up with you the way I used to, if my legs don’t move as they once did. Remember how I held your tiny hand and taught you to walk. How you took careful steps, and I supported you so you wouldn’t fall. Remember how you ran and I chased after you, laughing, catching you just in time to keep you safe.
Now it’s my turn to be not quite so fast, not as strong. But inside, I’m still the same—your father.
Don’t judge me if I can’t keep the house as tidy as I used to, if I forget where I put things, or if I’m not as skilled with tasks anymore. Remember the nights I stayed up caring for you when you were unwell. How I carried you when you had a fever, how I searched for the best doctors to help you get better quickly.
I was tired but never complained because you were my son.
Be patient with me if I can’t keep up with technology, if I don’t understand how to work the new phone or computer. If I ask the same question multiple times. Give me time, explain it again, and hold back your annoyance. Remember how I taught you to tie your shoelaces, how I showed you how to hold a spoon, how I explained the world to you. I did it slowly, patiently, with love.
Don’t judge me for still worrying about you, even though you’re a grown man now. I still wait for your calls, think about you, pray that all is well with you. And if I ask about what you ate, how your day went, whether you got enough sleep—don’t brush it off. Just understand: you’ll always be my little boy.
Someday, you’ll know what it’s like to wait when your child is out late, to listen for the sound of their footsteps at the door and feel relief when they come home safe.
I know that one day, I’ll become too weak, unable to care for myself as I once did. I don’t know what I’ll be like—perhaps helpless, perhaps forgetful, perhaps moody. But I ask you—don’t turn away from me when that time comes.
Remember how I changed your nappies when you were a baby. How I rocked you when you cried. How I protected you when you were scared.
If I start doing things differently, if my habits change, if my words become confused—don’t get angry, don’t be upset, don’t lose your patience. Just be there for me.
When my time comes to leave this world, don’t grieve. Just know that I was happy because I had you—my son, my pride, my love.
May our best days remain in your memory. May you remember me as strong, loving, and caring.
I am grateful for every moment we were together.
And while we are still here, while we can look into each other’s eyes, I want you to know—I love you, my son. Always.
