I'm not your typical Silicon Valley guy. Here, you'll find my random but intentional thoughts on parenthood, innovation, faith, health and family life in a hyper connected, super social world.

 

Happy Birthday, Son!

8 years ago exactly. I was overcome with fear.  Our first child was dramatically and unexpectedly forced to be born ahead of time.  Plans mean nothing when you’re not in control.  And so it happened: he was born, my son.

Among the terrifying moments, there was an indescribable feeling of happiness, of change, of right. I was infinitely grateful to God and to my wife for enduring such a painful pregnancy.

I did not care that he had to be taken to the NICU after birth, that he was not eating, that he was barely breathing.  I was inundated by the excitement and overcome with a sense of peace and love from above.  And so I knew everything would be alright.

But I was the one defining what “alright” meant, as if I knew better. The following 10 days transformed my life forever.  Confronted with the real possibility of losing my first son was, by far, the hardest moment of my life.  And a defining moment that changed my relationship with our creator.

In a very desperate moment, I did fall on my knees and gave up.  I told God I had finally got it.  I was not in control, and it would be ultimately His will.  I prayed as I had never prayed before.  I cried until I had no more tears.  I silently held my thoughts and indignation to myself to not worry my wife. 

I let go. I kicked fear out. I blew up the attachments. I silenced my ego. I flew like feather in the air: erratically but without worries. Perfectly placed in time, the miracle that I did not think would happen finally came. My son started to eat and climbed back to life.

8 years later, I’m thankful to my son for he unknowingly tested my faith, and brought me back to reestablish my relationship with Him.

Happy birthday, son.  I love you forever, and you will always have all of me.

What My Son Taught Me About Death This Morning

Serendipitously, I and my two children just met the parents of Emily Bordallo, the 25-year old woman that was killed in a car accident three days ago, becoming the first fatality of the year in San Jose, CA. We were trying to re-light a few candles that had subsided to the chilly and humid morning dew of Silicon Valley winters.  Two strangers told us to not worry about it, and quietly mentioned they were the parents of the young woman in the fatal accident. 
I offered my condolences among hugs and tears as well as any help we could give them. I had been worried about what parents must suffer through when a child is taken away from their lives in such a tragic and sudden way. The dad looked at my daughter and lovingly told her to never speed and be careful when riding her bike or driving a car when she grows up.  The mom told us she finds solace in knowing her daughter had a very good life.  My son noticed our sadness and told me in the car once we were on our way to school: “Dad, I know you are all sad, but I wasn’t that much”. I asked why, he responded “because she is in heaven”. He told me this with the unwavering conviction of a saint.
I wish we adults weren’t so cynic about death sometimes.
I never met Emily, but after meeting her parents and reading the comments people who knew her had to say, I wish I had, and I hope my children grow up to be the same kind of generous, happy, selfish people she was a fine example of.
May she rest in peace, and her soul be in heaven.