When my wife told me she was pregnant, I did something that surprised even myself. I started writing letters to my unborn son.
The first letter was short: "Dear Son, I don't know you yet, but I already love you more than I thought possible. I promise to be the father you deserve."
Over the next nine months, I wrote dozens of letters. I wrote about my hopes for him, my fears about fatherhood, the lessons I wanted to teach him. I wrote about my own father, who left when I was five, and how I swore I would break that cycle. I wrote about the world he was coming into—its beauty and its challenges—and how I would prepare him for both.
The night before he was born, I wrote: "Tomorrow, I meet you. I'm terrified and excited. I don't have all the answers, but I promise to figure them out with you. I promise to be present, even when it's hard. I promise to listen, even when I don't understand. I promise to love you, even when you make it difficult. You are my greatest adventure, and it hasn't even begun."
Kingston is five now. Every year on his birthday, I give him one of those letters. He can't read them yet, but he holds them like treasures. "Daddy's letters," he calls them.
One day, he'll read them all. He'll know that before he took his first breath, his father was already committed to him. He'll know that he was wanted, planned for, and loved from the very beginning. And maybe, when he becomes a father himself, he'll write letters too.
That's the legacy I want to leave—not money or property, but words. Words that say: You mattered to me before you existed. You matter to me now. You will matter to me forever.