Henry, Henry, Henry

I have never written a blog about Henry before, but I feel compelled today. Henry is a special son - because he is my only son. He is also special because he is just so special. When he was a little kid I had dreams that he would be this or that, and I realized that Henry would be Henry.

He gave me so much joy as a child because he was the perfect baby at two years old. Then came the few years that he set his goals that were not in tune with mine, and I retreated. We decided that he would be what he wanted to be.

Early childhood I had a son who complied to all my wishes but not his. When I shot a goose he didn't want to hold it by the neck but he did. Working with wood was a task that would make any teenager flee but he did his thing.

I bought a boat - a 47 ft long second world war boat - that was the envy of the folks on the Ottawa River. Henry was a natural. I was so proud of Henry being the captain of this boat with as many as 55 people on board. He knew the river, he knew the currents, and he trusted me to make judgements in difficult situations. He was a mariner.

Henry and I both loved music and I was so proud of him and his small group playing in the festival and at assemblies. He played the slide trombone as well as anyone.

Henry was a quiet fellow who rarely told me his thoughts but I always trusted him to make the right decision. I trusted him too much and did not protect him as I should have. We take for granted that everyone is good but this was not the case. I forever regret not being there one time when he needed me most.

Time has passed and I realize the great parent and son I have. Henry probably is the best parent I have known and the son he has is the result of that parenting skill. We have become great friends over the last twenty years and I look forward to the next twenty.

Henry you are what every father wishes his son to be. You are resourceful, honest, and loving and a wonderful brother to your sisters - who are very proud of you.

When you came to the Arctic I had a special feeling for you when you left because I really missed you. Have a happy 43rd Henry, and many more.