I am writing this to you for you to read one day when you are older. When you have the ability to process what a six year struggles to comprehend, when his dad can't spend the entire day of Christmas with him.
It maybe when you are 12, 16 or 30. I am not sure. I write it to you now, on Christmas day 2015, while the feelings are still fresh with me.
We did get to spend so much time together today, and last night, even though it was your mum's week to have you. It has been so good to unwrap presents with you, build lego, and see what Santa left you at mumma's house.
You asked me as we were packing up to leave Christmas lunch if I could come back to mumma's house and build some more lego. I know you can't understand why I can't come over, and I really don't have a good way of explaining it to you. It made you so sad when I said no. You cried and I could see I was breaking your heart.
What I do want you to know though is that I miss you so much. That I am crying as I type this. That I will be spending Christmas night alone and lonely, wishing I could be building lego with you. My heart is breaking too.
It may not seem like it when we part. I try to put on a brave face. But it tears me apart when we leave each other. It feels like something is being torn away from my guts.
I love you. So much. Our family in two parts is not your fault, and yet it impacts you daily. You are tender hearted. And funny. And beautiful. Although I am away from you sometimes, you are always close to my thoughts and in my heart.
Through all this I am doing my best to be your dad; present with you through all the moments; helping you learn and be curious about this strange thing called existence. Sometimes it can hurt more than you can imagine. And sometimes there is uncontainable joy.