I Don't Want Another Shirt
A Letter I’ll Write My Son, Bene, When I’m 60.
By Bo Sanchez
Dear Bene,
I’d like to ask a favor.
For my Birthday, Christmas, or Father’s Day, I don’t want another shirt. Or three pairs of socks. Or a new electric shaver. Or another Parker or Cross pen. Or a new pair of leather slippers.
Take a good look at me.
My face has more wrinkles now. I’m getting old and these “things” don’t give me the joy that they used to.
Do you want to make me happy, son?
Stop giving me things.
Instead, give me your presence.
Now I know, you’re a busy man.
Grown up and important.
You’ve got a million things to do.
I understand, son. I really do. But once in awhile, do drop by, and tell me you remember me.
Bring me out for lunch.
Or bring me out of the city—just the two of us.
Let’s talk about everything and anything.
I’d like to laugh with you again.
The same way we did when I used to bring you out for pizza; when you were tiny enough that I could carry you in my arms when you slept through a movie; and when your favorite topic of conversation was Pokemon and Transformers and Spiderman.
Oh my son, I miss you so much.
I want you to know that every so often, I still open an old box I keep in the lower drawer of my desk. In it are your pencilled drawings of robots, monsters, and superheroes.
And in case you didn’t know, I still like looking at my old photo albums. In these old photos, I see you as a shy child hiding behind your mother’s skirt, I see you singing a song in a Christmas party, I see you blowing candles on your birthday cake. I let my finger touch your face on those photos. I wipe the tears flowing down my cheeks. Memories rush over me like a river. My heart swells with pride as I think of you. Oh, how proud I am that you’re my son.
But you know what, son? Looking at these pictures makes me feel old. Very old.
I’m struck at how unforgiving time is.
Yes, it flies. And time will continue to fly ever so swiftly, and one day, I will be gone.
But mark my words, son.
Each day, in Heaven, I shall watch over you. My love will continue beyond the grave, beyond the boundaries of heaven and earth. My love for you will remain forever.
Son, I’m still here. With you. While I’m on planet earth, once in awhile, give me your presence.
When you were 7 years old, you used to shout, “Daddy, I love you,” and instantly, I’d get a lump in my throat, my eyes would moisten, and my chest would be filled with warmth.
Son, after all these years, you’re a grown up man now.
But nothing has changed between us.
Tell me those words again, “Daddy, I love you,” and instantly, I’d still get a lump in my throat, my eyes would still moisten, and my chest will still be filled with warmth.
Son, let’s make an agreement: No matter how corny it gets, let’s not stop hugging each other.
The older I am, the more I need those hugs.
I don’t want a shirt.
I want you, son, even if it’s just a few minutes of your time.
Love,
Dad
Why I Wrote This Letter
Just to let you know, I’m 44 today.
I’m still 16 years away from 60.
So why write this letter?
To remind myself the most important things in life.
At the end of the day, I’m wealthy not because of the money in the bank but because of the love in my relationships. I’ll never be happy in life if I’m not happy in my family relationships.
I urge you to always put your family first.
This is your most important wealth!
You Can Nourish Your Family Life
To The Pink Of Health
Because I know how important family is, I created a place where families can be nourished and very blessed. Two months ago, I formed the FamilyRebornClub and I’m inviting you to join me.
To nourish your family life, click the link below:
May your dreams come true,
Bo Sanchez
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