I think every father hopes their children will view them as a hero of some sort. Especially fathers of daughters. I know I've always hoped for that.
To share something personal, I always imagined myself playing my daughters Bron Yr Aur on my acoustic guitar ... somewhere in the mountains ... with the wind rustling the leaves ... and the leaves screaming "we're alive!"
It's funny how life pans out. Sweet Gabrielle isn't able to hear leaves blowing in the wind. She won't be able to appreciate the melody of this song in the way I imagined. And that's okay. Because it just is. How could it be anything else?
I guess what I'm trying to say is that Gabrielle's my hero. I'm not hers. She's taught me more about life than I ever could have taught my children otherwise. Life is raw. Life is.
How wonderstruck Gabrielle is by so little. Her infancy, innocence, and fragility is, in my opinion, heroic. You are my hero, Gabrielle. You knew we would name you that, for you have the strength of every god incarnate.
Wonder: what a wonderful word.
Thank you Gabrielle. Bron Yr Aur will forever remind me of you, and the wonder you've inspired me with.