Why It's Called s - #84

This Sunday my son turns two. And to be honest, there Letters aren't just named after me. They're named after him. When I lost my dad back in 2017, I found myself flipping through old journals he had left behind. Small notes. Random thoughts. Nothing crazy, but it's meaningful because they were his words. Conversations I wish I could still have in person. Notes like this hit different as a father myself now.

They make me feel connected to him again. That feeling sticks with me. So when I started writing these Leech Letters, I thought about my son. I want him to have the same kind of connection to me. He may not read all of them (by the time he’s 18 there will be over 900 of these), but I hope when he looks back he’ll feel what I felt. That his dad left something behind. And maybe that’s the bigger point. We’re all leaving something behind. Words. Our Work. How we showed up for our family. The question is: Will it connect when someone looks back? That’s what I’m chasing. Happy Birthday Son. Keep the Fire Burning, Leech