A Father's Love by David Goldman Read Free Book Online Page A

intelligence in their heads and no courage in their guts, I wanted to be different; I wanted to be the kind of dad my son could look at and of whom he could say, “That’s what it means to be a man.”
    I realized, of course, that I would probably make some mistakes in raising him. I could read every book from Dr. Spock to Dr. Phil and still feel pretty clueless and inadequate regarding how to raise a child. Someone once said that parenting is like trying to put together a puzzle when you’re not sure you have all the pieces. It never dawned on me that parenting requires patience—and lots of it—because I didn’t look at parenting as a chore. Nothing about it seemed taxing or burdensome to me. I felt that I was the luckiest guy in the world to have a wife and son in my life. I honestly believed that if I kept doing the right things long enough, my son would learn how to live right.
    Sean’s birth completed my world. I had traveled around the globe and seen so many things; now I was ready to settle down. Sure, I still enjoyed work, and the annual golf trip with the guys, but I had far more important priorities now. I was a dad! I knew that I couldn’t be a great father “in my spare time,” that the myth of quality time—“Oh, I can’t always give my son a lot of time, but I’ll give him quality time”—was just that, a myth. My responsibilities as a father now determined my priorities, and as far as I was concerned, my wife and child were my top priorities. I wanted nothing more than to be a great husband and father. I recognized that being a dad meant more than merely bringing home a paycheck, more than merely going through the motions of being a good husband and father.
    Looking at our baby boy in his bassinet, I realized I wanted to be there for my son. I wanted to be there when he stood up on his pudgy little legs and took his first steps, when he said his first words. I wanted to be there for his first day of school. I wanted to be there when he worked up his nerve to dive into our swimming pool for the first time. I could hardly wait to help him learn how to ride a bicycle. And I could scarcely imagine the thrill we would both feel the day he caught his first big fish off the back of a boat. This was going to be good.
    As I gazed into Sean’s face, I rededicated my life to my wife and to my beautiful baby boy. I had always enjoyed being at home with Bruna, but once Sean was born, I wanted to be at home even more often. I tried not to book prolonged business trips away from home, accepting mostly local modeling jobs and working in New York City whenever I could.
    I did other things to supplement our income. I went to school and earned my real estate license, so I could sell real estate on the side. Bruna continued teaching Italian classes one night per week at Brookdale Community College. Bruna didn’t like the idea of being a stay-at-home mom. She was ambitious and wanted a career, and I respected that. I let her know that I would support her in whatever decision she made. When Sean was about two years old, Bruna took a full-time job teaching Italian at St. John Vianney, a private school near where we lived. We knew we’d never get rich at these jobs, but we didn’t care. We were in love, we were content, and we were happy.
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    RAY AND SILVANA were very much involved in our family life. They visited often, sometimes staying at their condo for a month or two at a time before returning to Brazil. We were always delighted to see them, and we frequently went over to their place at the beach. Silvana was a good cook—in contrast to Bruna, who never prepared a meal from scratch—so we’d often enjoy sumptuous meals as a family at their condo. Although Ray and Silvana were bilingual, they spoke mostly English around Sean, as did Bruna. Occasionally, when talking “baby-talk,” they might lapse into their native