My son took me by surprise. I thought I knew everything by now, he was second after all, but first look into his eyes changed everything in an instant.
It was like gazing into infinity.
Here I was again, looking at the world through the eyes of a newborn, in an absolute awe and with an absolute love.
I remember now, that to be a father means to have a heart beating in someone else’s chest.
To be a father means to love so much that it hurts.
To be a father means to live your life, as if you are in a constant spotlight – and the audience are those who you love the most.
To be a father means to willingly step down from a main role in life’s journey, handle it to your children.
To be father means to carry a sweet yoke for the rest of your life – as you will never cease to care for your children.
To be father means to have black coffee and white nights.
To be a father means sometimes leaving at dawn and coming back after sunset, seeing your sons not awaken yet, and then already asleep. Realising that as much as it breaks your heart it is the necessary thing to do, in order to provide.
To be a father means, letting your children fall and guide them to learn from their mistakes, because as much as it hurts watching their knees get bruised, you know you it is the only way to get them ready for what’s up ahead.
Because to be a father, means also realisation that you raise your children not for yourself but for the world.
After all, nothing sums better the essence of parenthood as the poem of Kahlil Gibran.
These words ring in my soul, over an over as I stroke my son’s forehead and I dive deep into the depth of his eyes;
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.