Sagan's Birthday Year Two 2014

Sagan,

I have been writing you a birthday blog in the form of a letter every year. In a few days you will be two years old. This is my third letter. As you were getting older I received many solicited and unsolicited opinions from different parents. Some said I would miss you being a newborn, others gave stern warning about how challenging it would be when you grew to be a toddler. Challenging it definitely is; however, I see the glee in your eyes now that you can do so much more. You're free from the helpless prison your body had you in as as a baby. You are a very active toddler, and a very smart one. Part of your development is to challenge the establishment, namely us your parents. So yes, sometimes you throw yourself on the ground in the tantrumest of tantrums. You're not even two yet and you have already challenged us many times. I find it amazing that this is so integral to the development of a human being. Your mother and I, as challenging as it can be, understand this process is necessary. We give you your space to experience it. As always, you are a teacher, and as always, despite the occasional rise against the parents, you are very good boy.

There is one more thing I'd like to document for your future eyes and wonderful heart. This is the year I moved out of the house, the year your mother and I went our separate ways. In fact, the day after your 2nd birthday party will be the day I move into my new apartment. It is the most difficult thing I have ever had to do in my life. When I was a child, your Grandfather did not live with me. When he'd come visit and he'd have to go home my heart would break into a thousand pieces. I would cry and cry. The hole I felt in my heart ran deep. I would hyperventilate as I sobbed. As a child I decided this is something I would never subject any of my future children to. I would dream of having the family I never had, Mom, Dad, and son. When I tell you that my move this year is the most difficult thing I have ever done, it is no exaggeration. The child I was, the broken hearted hyperventilating child is currently making an occasional appearance in my heart. I cry and cry. The endless hole reappears. This is not what I wanted for us. I feel like I failed you, yet I know these feelings are not true. I know things will get better. I know that I will not fail you. I know that life is more than just my dream and more than what I want. It's just how I feel. My inner child cries for his dream, he cries for you. I want you to know that this is not your fault. People change. Circumstances change. Your mother and I love you with all our hearts. We both sacrifice for you. Your mother loves you deeply, and I will always love her deeply for the type of mother she is to you. We will work together to raise you to be the best person you can be. Our relationship may have changed, but our deep love and commitment to you is something we will always have in common. You both are forever my family.

Happy Birthday, Sagan. Welcome to the rest of your life. I can't wait to see what this year will bring. I am sure you will continue to surprise us, enlighten us, and occasionally drive us crazy. I look forward to watching you grow. I look forward to our time together. I promise to be the best Dad I can be. Until next year. Oh and "OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

Love,


Dad

P.S. Ask me about your obsession with Lightning McQueen from the movie Cars (2006) when you're older. Holy shit, Sagan! :) 

My Mortal Enemy And My Loyal Companion

I fight you with joy, and drown you with distractions.  The battle is won, but the war is really never over. Like a virus not completely beaten, you come back stronger. You may take another form, another circumstance; nevertheless, you inevitably return. Like a black hole, light does not escape your gravity. You take everything. I am forced to seek the sun in order to make it rise again. I find the sun and it gives light and warmth to my stage. The projector resumes. Some players keep playing, some disappear, others never come back. How long will it last this time? The birds chirp, the flowers bloom, and the snow melts. I enjoy the season. I enjoy every minute of it. I soak in the beauty of it. It gives me strength. It prepares me for your return. We dance again. We fight again. You're my mortal enemy and a loyal companion.

Letter To My Younger Self

Dear Younger Ruben Ortiz,

I write this to you knowing you will never read it. It may be of interest to your future son someday, or some other young person. Ruben, the most constant thing in your life will be change. You will become someone you never imagined you'd be. The world is not as black and white as you think, there is so much more grey than you can ever imagine. There will be matters you will open up to, that you never dreamed you'd accept. Life will bless you, yet it will present some challenges that will pummel you. These experiences will shape you; they will empower you, and at other times humble you. Amazing moments are coming your way. Cherish every single one of them. Keep them in your heart as a reserve fuel. Think of them when times become difficult, when you lose someone you love, when you lose a friend, when you have to start over, whenever you're in pain. I promise that with every loss, there is a reward because you learn to fight for them. One day, you'll have a calling, something you'd never expected to have. You will not consider it a calling from God; you will consider it a calling from your humanity, from your sense of responsibility. It will bring you great joy, and it will bring you lots of love. Many individuals will be tacked on to your list of friends and family who already mean so much to you. You will cry out, "You are not alone," and it will be true of you. Continue to grow in knowledge, be kind, and above all let love be evident in all you do. I have a feeling in whatever place we find ourselves in time, we're going to be okay.

 

Sincerely,

Future Ruben Ortiz.