My dear son, you can see that I’m getting older… I ask you to be patient with me.
My dear boy, you notice how quickly time flies and how the years change me? I ask you to be patient with me.
Try to understand when I need you, as there will be more and more of those moments.
Please don’t get frustrated if I start repeating myself, if I tell you the same story two, three, even five times. Remember how patiently I taught you to say your first words, how I repeated the alphabet to you over and over until you remembered the letters. Recall how many times I explained the same thing until you got it. I never got tired because you were my son, my blood.
Just listen to me now, even if it feels like you’ve already heard it all.
Don’t be angry if I walk slowly, if I can’t keep up with you like I used to, if my legs don’t cooperate. Remember when I held your tiny hand and taught you to walk. How you took uncertain steps, and I supported you so you wouldn’t fall. Remember how you ran, and I chased after you, laughing and catching you just in time so you wouldn’t get hurt.
Now it’s my turn to be not as 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 before, if I forget where I put things or if I’m not as adept at managing tasks. Remember how many nights I stayed awake taking care of you when you were ill. How I carried you when you had a high fever, searching for the best doctors so you’d recover quickly.
I was tired but never complained because you were my son.
Be patient with me if I fall behind with technology, if I don’t understand how a new phone or computer works. If I ask the same question multiple times. Give me time, explain it again, control your irritation. Remember how I taught you to tie your shoelaces, how I showed you 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. I still wait for your calls, think about you, and pray that you’re doing well. If I ask about what you ate, how your day went, or whether you slept well—don’t brush it off. Just understand: for me, you’ll always be my boy.
One day you’ll know what it’s like to wait when your child is out late, to listen for footsteps at the door and rejoice when they come home safe and sound.
I know there will come a day when I become too weak, unable to take care of myself as I once did. I don’t know what I’ll be—maybe helpless, maybe forgetful, or maybe irritable. But I beg you—don’t turn away from me at that moment.
Remember how I changed your nappies when you were a baby. How I rocked you when you cried. How I defended you when you were scared.
If I start doing things differently, if my habits change, if my words become muddled—don’t be angry, don’t be upset, don’t lose patience. Just be nearby.
When the time comes for me to leave this world, don’t mourn. Just know that I was happy because I had you—my son, my pride, my love.
May the best days we shared stay in your memory. Remember me as strong, loving, caring.
I’m grateful for every moment we were together.
And while we’re here, while we can look each other in the eyes, I want you to know—I love you, my son. Always.
