By SERGE BIELANKO
(FYI: I’m going to call you Fusilodil—Future Son-in-Law or Daughter-in-Law—because no one knows your real name yet.)
How’s it going? I hope things are good with you! I expect that you’re likely getting a little excited about fact that you’ll be marrying my sugar, my daughter, my one and only Violet. It IS exciting, ain’t it?
It sure is, Fusilodil. It sure is.
Hey! Maybe we’ll share a pizza and a bottle of the good stuff as we all get to know each other, huh? That’d be a special evening, no doubt. A reeeeeal special evening. But for real. When we do break bread together on that first joyous occassion, understand that I’ll probably be boring a fairly sizable hole in your forehead with my laserbeam eyes. Please don’t take it too personally, okay? That’s just something I tend to do when I’m meeting someone like you for the first time, Fusilodil—someone who is more or less planning on stealing the love of my life away from me.
But I digress. Look, you seem like a real decent person, and Lord knows that my little girl sees so much in you. Her eyes light up when you walk in the room. Have you noticed that? I’m sure you have. That’s love, Fusilodil. I know it when I see it. It’s not easy for me either, I’m not gonna lie to you. This kid. This young woman. This angel named Violet has saved me more than I like to admit. Just by being around and being herself in front of me, she’s a reflection in my eye.
I’ll tell ya, I never dreamed I’d be lucky enough to know someone like my daughter in my time on Earth. (Let alone help create her!) But I do know her, and she has loved me and been my best friend since the day she was born and placed into my quivering hands on a foggy January afternoon many moons ago.
Oh, I’m rambling, aren’t I? Anyway, you and I have something very, very important in common, Fusilodil, so I’m going to tell you a few things you ought to know before you two lovebirds go galloping off into that western sunset.
Okay, here we go. Alright, I’m fine. I’m fine. I just maybe need a second here. I’m good. Okay. Gathering my thoughts. Something’s in my eye; a gnat, I think. Sniff.
Okay, it’s gone.
Violet Avelaine Bielanko is my first born child. That makes her special in my book. I don’t love her younger brothers any less for the fact, mind you, it’s just that your first kid holds a special place in your heart when you become a daddy. That said, I’m willing to concede to reality since I’ve agreed to walk her down the aisle and give her away to you. (Boy, do I hate that term, ‘give her away’. Truth is, I’m not giving her away at all. I like you fine, and you two belong together but for me to simply hand her off would make me a special kind of stupid. And that ain’t going to happen.)