I’m standing out in the open. I have a moment of hesitation. I grab his vest and I start dragging. He gets heavier. I heard a voice. I start yelling at him, like, “Check, check. See where I’m hit.” He goes, “there’s a hole,” and the only thing I can think to ask is, “How big is it?” Next thing I know, lights go out. Growing up in New York was interesting. You didn’t just live left to right — you lived up and down. It was almost like being a ghost. I could kind of just draft in, draft out, watch what was happening and then just kind of move on. I definitely yearned for a connection. I yearned to be established in one place. My father was never really part of my life. The few times he would come around, it was just fights. For as long as I could remember, I was always looking for a way out. I wanted to fight back, take control of my own life, take control of that feeling of helplessness and powerlessness. I was a soldier. Down to my bones and in my DNA. I’d found a family, I had found a purpose. It really was just ripped away. And it was almost like being back to square one, just on my own again. Just kind of floating through life, like day in, day out, just doing nothing for so long. I grew up idolizing the families on TV — the mom and dad and the kids. You had the challenges of being a married family, but you know, you would also see that love, that bond between people. And it’s something that I didn’t understand. When I finally found the right person to be with and spend my life with, I was just not confident that I could raise a child, physically. I didn’t want them to grow up feeling like maybe he didn’t want me because he never picked me up. I can recall weeks where I didn’t step foot outside the house. And what kind of father can’t even go in the yard to play with my kid? If not for my wife, I would have been drifting forever. All these things you’re throwing into that hole, and little by little it starts to kind of fill itself. After 11 years of marriage, I looked at my wife and I said, “You know, things have been going really well for a while. Let’s screw it up. Let’s have a kid.” The first year is definitely — keep them alive. Make sure they don’t fall down. I feel like it’s my job to give him the very basics of truth, justice, and honor and integrity, selflessness and service, then to let him decide what’s most important to him. I don’t want it ever to be boys can’t cry. It was always suck it up, you drive on. You get shot, get up, you rub some dirt in it. You never show weakness. After I was injured, I honestly have never felt more alone. In this day and age where we’re so connected, it seems we’re so isolated. I felt that I had no one I could go to. I wanted a father in my life. I missed the idea of him. I never want that for him. My hope is that I can be his biggest champion. I don’t want him to think of dad as this disabled vet or this war hero or whatever have you, but just dad, the guy that’s always had my back.