I shared him with the family minutes after the C-section and cried for the first time I could recall. I slept on the floor in his room for the first few months in fear of SIDS. I woke for the 2am feedings and perfected the swaddle that he loved. I fed him his first solid food covered in a garbage sack. Mom was with him all day but I did what I could when I came home from work.

I read him a bedtime story even if it was Scruffy the Tugboat for the umpteenth time. Eventually, bedtime stories became simply ‘reading at bedtime’ and I took him through the likes of James and the Giant Peach, The Big Friendly Giant and The Hobbit. Reading was the first thing we noted him excel at.

I taught him to fish, throw a ball and shoot a basket but when he made it clear he didn’t have my passion for sports, I didn’t push. When he joined Karate at five, however, I was determined he would see it through. I attended the tournaments and practices and at eleven he became one of the youngest black belts the school had produced.

I asked him to measure a person by what he learned from them and that pre-judging by race, religion or sexual orientation might rob him the opportunity to meet someone wonderful. His friends were always welcome and nearly always at our home. I treated them all the same whether I personally liked them or not.

I talked to him about respect and authority making sure he understood he was to show deference but he also had the right to question and had my support to do so. I never punished him for challenging something as long as his explanation was well reasoned, even if he was in the wrong. He was clear this applied to anyone including teachers.

His education was his responsibility, I explained. The teachers were there to disseminate the information and it was up to him to make sure he understood or asked questions if he didn’t. I volunteered in the classroom and attended every recital, play and ceremony. He always had two parents in attendance.

I never hid I was a recovering addict/alcoholic and shared my own experiences with the hope he and his friends could learn from it. I made it clear how hard my life has been and that my story is not typical. I wanted him to understand that smart choices now would make it far easier. Occasionally I ask “You know why I love you?” and his response is always “Because I’m me.” I wanted him to understand he was his own person and all my shared wisdom and beliefs were simply for him to consider as perspective.

I know my wife is as much, if not more responsible for who he is but I can take pride in being his father. For 18 years I’ve tried to be the father I wish mine had been and I can admit to myself today I was at least a success in that.