Robert Louis

The Lessons of Fatherhood

Robert, our firstborn, has been as much a teacher to me as he has been a son. As Mavis carried him, I found myself consumed by a swirl of emotions. The idea of becoming a father filled me with a profound sense of nervousness and uncertainty. I had never been known for my organization or responsibility—traits that seemed essential for parenthood. My struggles with depression added another layer of fear. What if I passed on this burden to my child? The weight of these concerns bore down on me, making the future seem overwhelming.

Then, one night, something remarkable happened. In the midst of my anxieties, I had the most vivid dream. In it, I was sitting across from baby Robert, who looked exactly as he did when he was born. I spoke to him as if he were an old friend, confessing my worries about fatherhood. To my surprise, he responded with a calmness that immediately put me at ease. "Don’t worry, Dad, I’m coming for you," he said. Those words—simple yet powerful—became a source of strength for me. The dream stayed with me, dissolving my fears and giving me the confidence to embrace the journey of fatherhood. It was as if Robert, even before he was born, was already reaching out to guide me.

When Robert was finally born, named in honor of my brother who had been tragically taken from us, he was the most beautiful baby I had ever seen. There was something serene about him, a calmness that seemed to echo the reassurance I had felt in my dream. From the beginning, Robert was eager to help, always willing to lend a hand in whatever way he could. 

Robert’s early years were a testament to his thoughtful and deliberate nature. He excelled in school, earning numerous awards and accolades that made us all proud. His maturity was evident in how he approached his responsibilities—whether it was his schoolwork or helping out at home. We never had to remind him about his assignments; he was always on top of them, a trait that I admired deeply. 

The bond between Robert and his grandmother was special, perhaps shaped by her own loss or simply the natural connection between a grandmother and her first grandchild. She took great joy in teaching him to play the piano, and her pride shone brightly at his recitals. It was a relationship built on love and shared moments, one that enriched both their lives.

As a child, Robert developed a passion for swimming, though his start in the pool was far from smooth. YMCA swim lessons were a challenge; he was hesitant to get in the water, and it took every ounce of persuasion from Mavis and me to coax him in. But once he found his comfort zone, there was no turning back. Every day after work, I would take Robert and his brothers to the community pool. Robert had an incredible lung capacity, often swimming the entire length of the pool underwater. Watching him in the water, I felt a sense of pride, knowing that he had conquered his initial fears.

Robert’s love for his younger brother, Alexander, was another aspect of his caring nature. Alex, who was shy and reserved, looked up to Robert, following him everywhere. Despite the natural sibling rivalries, Robert was always patient with Alex, teaching him, playing with him, and guiding him in the way only an older brother could. I remember one incident when they were horseplaying on the couch, and Alex accidentally pushed Robert off the armrest, causing him to break his arm. Robert didn’t complain, so we didn’t realize the severity of the injury until the next day when his arm swelled up. The guilt we felt as parents was immense, but Robert’s quiet endurance only deepened my admiration for him.

Robert’s creativity shone through in the projects he worked on with his mother. They made quite the team, often staying up late to perfect every detail of a school project. Their collaboration was a beautiful thing to witness, a blend of creativity and determination that produced wonderful results.

As the family grew, with the addition of Richie, the bond between the three boys strengthened. They embarked on many adventures together, including backyard camping trips where they pretended they were deep in the woods. These moments of shared exploration and imagination were the building blocks of their brotherly camaraderie, memories that I hope they will cherish as they grow older.

In middle school, Robert discovered a new passion: robotics. He found joy not only in building robots but also in the camaraderie that came with it. The social aspect of robotics was just as important to him as the technical challenges. As he progressed through high school, his passion deepened, and he eventually became the build supervisor, excelling at figuring out how to put the pieces together and make the robots work. It was in this environment that we saw a different side of Robert—one that was lighter, more playful. When the team traveled for competitions, Robert was always in the middle of the fun, dancing along to "Sweet Caroline" by Neil Diamond. Robotics also brought Robert his first girlfriend, a milestone that marked the beginning of new experiences and growth.

As Robert prepared his college applications, I was filled with excitement and pride. His hard work in high school had paid off, and he was named salutatorian of his class. When he was accepted into MIT’s School of Engineering, it felt like a dream come true. But true to his low-key personality, Robert didn’t seem as thrilled as the rest of us. He had his eye on another university, but the excitement generated by family and friends eventually convinced him that MIT was the right choice. The only problem was the distance—Boston was more than 2,500 miles from home. I asked him if he would return after college, and while he said yes to appease me, I knew that his heart was set on exploring the world beyond our hometown. Boston captured his heart, and it took a generous offer from Google in Mountain View, California, to bring him back. Now, as I watch him thrive as an engineer at Google, I see that he is happy, and that is all I have ever wanted for him.

Robert has grown into a man of integrity, kindness, and strength—qualities that were evident even when he was a child. In many ways, he has fulfilled the promise he made to me in that dream all those years ago. He has been there for me, as much as I have been there for him, teaching me as much about life as I have tried to teach him.