I know we’ve been through an extrordinary amount of mazes and puzzles. I love you, though. Now it’s your wedding day. Your tie is crooked.
Flash, I see you as a little boy, a little man. My son.
Two front teeth missing, laying in my bed, in my arms. You loved me then. Now, your legs shake. I can hear your heart pound. Loud, to the point where my ears ache. I’m not young, I wasn’t young when you were small, but I’ve walked the steps you’re making right now. I know that you can’t believe it, because we’re so different, but I was just like you. But I didn’t handle things as you do. I wasn’t creative as you are, writing songs, making the world a better place, soothing people with music.
With love. I look up to you, you know. I think of you almost as of royalty. I’ve made a crown for you with my aching, cracking pale hands. Wear it with pride, please.

Everything I said to you, I wish you’ll take it with you though. There was a design for what I did and said. Kiss me on the cheek one last time. Goodbye, goodnight.