Joyeuses fetes, mon cher fils! (Ma 9ieme lettre)

Cher Daniel,

Ça fait un bout de temps que je n’ai plus écrit, c’est vrai. Malgré, j’ai pensé beaucoup à toi ce dernier temps. Des souvenirs me sont revenus, de l’hiver 2010/2011, juste avant ta naissance. Moi et ta maman ont été très excité de te voir. Il neigeait beaucoup cet hiver-là. Avec une voiture empruntée des amis, j’ai même conduit ta mère à l’hôpital la veille de Noël, dans la neige, parce qu’elle pensait que tu allais arriver un peu tôt. Mais non, tu n’avais pas encore envie à ce moment-là! La voiture, hélàs, a été entretemps remorquée parce que, dans la panique, je n’ai pas fait attention à l’affiche qui interdisait de garer la voiture devant l’hôpital! Tu es resté au chaud encore jusqu’en janvier (comme tu le sais). Et donc ton premier Noël n’était qu’en 2011…

…maitenant on va fêter Noël 2019 avec tes deux soeurs, Anna et Daphné. Ton oncle sera aussi là. Nous avons chez nous un très beau sapin avec beaucoup de place autour pour les cadeaux apportés (j’espere!) par le Père Noël.

Et toi? J’espère que tu as été sage, et que des cadeaux t’attendent aussi (et qqchose de bon à manger!). J’ai malheuresement pas le droit de te donner un cadeau, mais saches que dans mon coeur, je t’embrasse tres fort, mon cher fils.

Joyeux Noël,

-Dad (ton père)

 

Cher Daniel, ma huitieme lettre a toi

Cher Daniel,

J’ai decide quand meme de t’ecrire en français au lieu de mes lettres habituelles en anglais, car entretemps j’estime que ce sera moins probable que tu apprendra l’anglais dans l’avenir proche.

Comme d’habitude je veux te dire a tel point je t’aime. Je pense souvent a toi, bien que ce dernier temps les evenments ont ete tels que je commence a perdre l’espoir de te jamais revoir. Mais l’idee de t’effacer de mon esprit, mes souvenirs, cela n’est pas possible pour moi.

C’est la raison pour laquelle je ne vais jamais arreter de t’ecrire ces lettres – meme en 20 ans, je garderai cette voie de communication. Et qui sait? Peut-etre un jour quand meme tu decideras de me contacter, en posant la question: Ou etais-tu toute ma vie?

La verite – et rien et personne ne peut l’effacer, la verite – c’est que je n’ai jamais voulu que de te faire du bien. J’ai toujours ete la pour toi. Je le suis maintenant, aujourd’hui. Je le serai demain aussi. Le peu de temps qu’on a passe ensemble – jusqu’a ton premier anniversaire, tu as ete mon ‘little man’, mon petit bonhomme, mon ‘Daniel Papaniel’ comme je disais a l’epoche.

Bon, assez dit. Quoi d’autre? Ta petite soeur Daphne pousse comme de mauvaise herbe, comme on dit en anglais. Elle est tres rigolo, bien que parfois un peu insolente. Mais elle chante beaucoup (principalement en francais – ah les crocodiles, le petit navire, l’elephant que se balancait sur une toile d’araignee…) elle adore sa trottinette. Son meilleur copain s’appelle Mathias – il est moitie bulgare, comme l’hasard le veut!

Ta soeur ainee Anna est parti pour son voyage aux Etats-Unis – 5 mois de chemin a pied. Elle est tres courageuse. Comme je suis fier d’elle!

Sinon je continue de profiter de l’ete pour jouer beaucoup de tennis, autant que le travail et les autres responsabilites de la vie le permettent.

J’espere que tu passes des bonnes vacances, avec beaucoup d’activites, de bonnes choses a manger (de la glace?!?) et surtout du soleil et de la chaleur.

Esperons que la raison et la bonte vaincent, et que les forces qui nous separent s’epaissent.

Beaucoup de calin,

Dad (ton pere)

My seventh letter to you

Dear Daniel,

It has been a while since I’ve written to you, but that is not to say I have stopped thinking about you. Oh, not at all. On the contrary, you are in my thoughts every day.

I hope now that the evenings are getting brighter you will have a chance to play outside a little bit more. The parks are certainly bustling these day. When I collect your little sister from creche I often stop at the park and she watches the big boys and girls playing on their scooters, bikes and roller skates. She’s eager to get going too, but at 22 months still too small for that kind of thing.

It’s Lent now, which is a good period of the year to reflect on things and take stock of the good. It’s sort of a spiritual springtime! I am using this time to try and get back in shape – lots of running in the morning and playing tennis.

How is your tennis going? I hope you are improving. One day, perhaps, we can go out to the courts together and play a few games. My backhand is still kind of weak but I have quite a strong forehand and a decent enough serve.

Anyway, enough for now. I recorded a little video message for you before Christmas. Hopefully you have had a chance to watch it.

As always, you have my love.

Dad

Happy Easter Daniel

Dear Daniel,

Yet another Easter is coming around the corner and I find myself thinking, once again, of you. There has, in fact, only ever been one Easter that we have spent together. It was the Easter of 2011. I remember I took you to Mass at Notre Dame au Sablon.

In all the years that have followed, I have always thought of you because Easter is a special time, a time for family.

Your little sister Daphne is thriving. She can’t yet crawl or walk but she scoots around on her bum – very cute. The creche gave her a gift of a few chocolate eggs for Easter but I’m afraid she’s too young to enjoy those kinds of treats (so instead she will have to make do with mushy vegetables and milk!)

I have an Easter egg here for you but as I have no way of giving it to you, I’m afraid I will have to donate it or eat it myself.

Still I hope you get some nice chocolate (but not too much!). I will be thinking of you.

Love,

Dad

My sixth letter to you (Happy Birthday)

Dear Daniel,

This is just a brief one to wish you a very happy birthday. You are seven today; a big boy now!

I want you to know that although I can’t spend the day with you, I have been thinking about you all day. I miss you more than you can know, and look forward to the day when, one day, I can be there with you on your birthday.

All my love,

Dad

My Fifth Letter to You (Merry Christmas!)

Dear Daniel,

It’s a few days after Christmas and I’m here at home thinking once again about you. My Christmas has been very merry indeed – with lots of family and friends and games and fun and good food (more about that in a second). But of course, everything is tinged with sadness because you are not here with us, and I wish you were.

Our Christmas tree is magnificent – two metres tall and bushy and perfectly formed. We have loaded it with ornaments and lights and it is in the corner of the dining room, with plenty of space for Christmas presents. Next to the tree, I have set up the Nativity scene on the sill of the dining room window. It is the set of figurines I inherited from your Irish grandmother, who is with the angels in heaven now. I’m sure she is very pleased to look down and see that I still set it up every Christmas.

It was also very popular this Christmas morning. Our visitors included a little girl your age, who duly turned over the baby Jesus when she came out of her room and sang ‘Away in the Manger’, which is a family tradition.

Then there were presents! We unwrapped tonnes of gifts (I got a lovely coat from Jo, which I have been wearing every day since). The children were all delighted with the gifts Santa had brought (they even caught a glimpse of him out the window on Christmas Eve!) and ran around the house like mad people, playing with everything and eating far too many sugary things. Then, later on, we ate a delicious meal of turkey, chicken, ham, stuffing, brussels sprouts, broccoli, turnip, mashed potato, roast potato, turnip, gravy, cranberry sauce and bread sauce. And for dessert we had Yule Log and chocolate cake and chocolate pralines. It was amazing!

What about you? Did Santa come to you? Did you get nice gifts? Did you have good food? I hope so, my dear son. I hope you had an excellent, merry Christmas and are doing well.

I miss you so much. My heart is as always full of love for you, and for Anna and Daphne. I hope 2018 is the year when I get to see you again.

Take care and Happy New Year,

Dad

 

 

 

My fourth letter to you

Dear Daniel,

Hi, it’s your dad again. It’s been a number of days since the last hearing in the courts and I have been thinking about you all the time.

I heard that you are doing pretty well in school – well that’s good news. I hope your teacher is nice and that you are making lots of friends.

Life is sometimes really confusing and people will tell you different things. But beyond all that, there is something called the truth. And the truth is this:

You are my son, and I love you. I have only ever cared for you and wanted to protect you and be in your life. That will never change. I will continue to fight for you so that you can have your father and know who you are: A young man with an entire family who loves you and will be there for you, one day, when you are old enough to choose that for yourself.

Until that day, I will keep fighting and keep making sure that you know your dad is out there, trying his best to be there for you.

With all my love,

Dad

My Third Letter to You

Dear Daniel,

Just a quick note to tell you how much I miss you, and that I hope you are having a wonderful summer. The weather has been somewhat mixed, but I hope you have had a chance to get outside and enjoy it, as much as possible. Do you ride a bike yet?

I take mine almost every day. This weekend we went to a lovely place called Chateau de la Hulpe, where we ate a delicious picnic by the lake. There were frogs in the lake and even a turtle sunning himself on a log!

I miss you so terribly, as always. It breaks my heart that yet another summer is going by in which I don’t get to do fun things with you and watch you grow and learn and experience the world.

I can only renew my promise to you that I will continue to fight as hard as I can to d0 everything in my power to be in your life. You have the right to a dad.

Love,

Dad

My Second Letter to you

Dear Daniel,

How are you?

I guess school is out now and you are off for the summer. From what I gather from the legal stuff, you and your mom are off for the summer. I hope you get out into the parks, go swimming and have a good time. Maybe you will even get to go to the beach? Of course, I wish I could take you there. Maybe one day I will, who knows?

It has been an eventful summer so far, with the birth of your new little sister, Daphne, during an awful heat wave. Naturally, it has not been easy for her to adjust to that kind of weather, and she’s quite the demanding little miss, I have to say.

Of course, only naturally it takes me back to when you were a baby. Almost automatically, I fall into the same patterns of speech, of carrying her around. I have different nicknames for her than for you, of course. (You were always known as ‘my main man’, or ‘Danko Panko’, or other such names…). I remember giving you your ‘biberon’ in the mornings, the endless diaper changes (!), but also ‘flying’ you around the living room Superman-style. I hope that somewhere, in your subconscious, those memories will remain embedded.

There has been more legal stuff, but I won’t bore you with that. Suffice it to say that I am still doing everything I can to remain in your life and be your dad. I will never give up on you.

Love,

Dad

My first letter to you

Dear Daniel,

I am your father and this is my first letter to you, my six-year-old son. I’m writing it in a language you can’t read or even speak, on my website which you don’t know exists. It’s a sunny day in Brussels and I’m eating my lunch and thinking of you. You are – most likely – still at school right now, in your classroom which is not far from where I sit and write these words. But you don’t know who I am and certainly you can’t guess how often and how much I think of you.

As I write this, I have no idea whether you will ever read these words. I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again and if so, what you will think of me. Maybe you’ll be afraid of me? Maybe it will be in many years from now and you will hate me for not being a part of your life? Maybe that will never happen, and these words will remain unread by you forever. Maybe (but I doubt it) you will grow up strong and happy and never worry about the fact that you were denied a father, or wonder or care who I was.

The most important thing I want to say right now is that I love you. I miss you terribly, and I have missed you every day since the day, on the 18 January 2012, when you were taken out of my life.

But more than just missing you and loving you, I want what is best for you. If I believed that meant leaving you alone (not writing any letters and not fighting in the courts to see you) that is what I would do. But after everything that has happened over the past five years, I can’t believe that is true. I think you need me in your life, now more than ever. This is why I will keep trying to see you again.

The last time you saw me, you didn’t seem to recognise who I was. You pointed your finger and me and said ‘bad man’, because that is what you had been told to say. I want you to know that I am not a bad man. I am a man (with some bad bits, and some good bits, like all other men in the world), but I have never tried to harm you and I never will.

I’m going off now in a little while in order to attend a meeting with some people who I hope will try to help bring me back into your life. After all the meetings with all the different people, I can’t tell you that I am very hopeful. But doing my best for you means that I have to try everything possible.

Hope to see you soon.

Love,

Dad