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“Whatcha doin’ babe?” Steve asked, as he sat down at the dining room table next to him. He’d opened all the windows on that side of the house, letting the spring trade winds waft in, filling their home with the scent of the ocean.
“Writing a letter.” Danny said, without looking up from his writing.
“To who?” Steve asked.
“I think you mean ‘To whom’, Steven.” Danny said, still not looking up from his writing.
“To whom, grammar Nazi?” Danny could tell Steve was smiling by his tone, even though he was still focused on writing his letter.
“Jack. I’m writing my son a letter.” Danny said matter-of-factly.
“He’s been in this world less than a day and you’re already writing him letters? That’s cute, babe.” Steve mused.
“I want to do it before his birthday is over.” Danny said.
“And when will he read it?” Steve asked.
“When he’s 21.”
“Not 18?”
Danny shook his head and put the pen down for a moment, shaking the cramps out of his hand, finally looking up and meeting his husband’s inquisitive gaze. He shook his head.
“He won’t care when he’s 18. You’re more of an adult when you’re 21.” He smiled.
“What are you writing about?”
“It’s not private. You can read it when I’m done. I can make it from both of us.”
“If you like.” Steve said. “I think it’s a sweet idea.” He put a hand on Danny’s thigh as he leaned in for a kiss before getting back up. “We’ve got leftover pasta for dinner or I can order a pizza.”
“You decide babe. They both sound good.”
Danny returned to his letter.
***
Danny grabbed a plate as Steve brought the pizza back into the kitchen. The sky outside had turned a brilliant deep purple as nighttime fell upon the island.
“The letter’s on the table, finished.” He said. “Read it before you eat so you don’t get grease on it.”
“What if you get grease on it?” Steve said.
“I’m eating out on the lanai, and I will wash my hands thoroughly. Read it, babe.” He said, strolling outside, and taking a seat in a chaise.
Danny looked back inside and saw a smile spread across Steve’s face as he began to read.
May 8, 2012
Honolulu, Hawai’i
Dear Jack:
Aloha, and Happy Birthday, son.
This day is very special to me and your Daddy Steve. It’s your only true birthday, the day you joined us in this fantastic world, and we’re so glad you’re here.
I held you for the first time today, and I can’t find the words tell you what a beautiful baby boy you are. You have ten perfect tiny little fingers with ten perfect tiny little nails that I’ll trim for you until you’re old enough to do it yourself. You have a thick head of jet black hair and these great big blue eyes that I hope stay as bright as the first time I saw them, although the nurses tell me they might change color.
I’m amazed that all this – you, your Daddy, and whatever brothers and sisters may come after you, has become my life. I never thought I’d be so lucky, but holding you in my arms I feel like, well, easily the most fortunate man on earth to have a son so beautiful and perfect as you are on your very first day. You have a healthy set of lungs, and when your Daddy changed you for the first time you peed all over him. He’ll get the hang of it soon, and I know you’ll love him as much as I do.
We’ve named you Jack Robert Pomaika’i McGarrett. Jack, after your grandpa McGarrett, who left this world before you arrived, Robert, after your Great Grandfather Williams, Pomaika’i, the Hawaiian word for Lucky, because of how lucky you make us feel, and McGarrett, of course, because you’re one of our growing ohana.
So, welcome to the world, little one. E komo mai. We’ll love you forever.
Your Father Danny McGarrett & Your Daddy Steve McGarrett
Danny saw the trail of a tear down Steve’s cheek as he sat down on his lap and kissed him.
“It’s beautiful, Danno.” Steve whispered as he pulled away, going right back in for some more kisses down the side of his cheek, as Danny set down his plate next to him and pulled Steve close.
“We really are lucky.” Danny said over his husband’s shoulder.
***
August 13, 2014
Honolulu, Hawai’i
Dear Michael:
Aloha, and Happy Birthday, son.
Greetings from your parents, who love you very much. It starts today, and won’t end until we’re both gone. Your brother and sister love you too, although Grace is pretending to be “cool” about it, and Jack is too little to tell you, although he pointed and said “baby!” when we brought him to meet you today.
You have flaming red hair and light brown eyes that are almost golden. You remind me and your Daddy of warmth – the warmth in your appearance, the warmth in your smile (and you smile a lot) and the warmth we felt when we both held you for the first time. You bring warmth to our ohana, and so we named you Michael Patrick Mahana McGarrett. Michael, a Hebrew name (I have some Jew in me), Patrick (your Daddy and I both have some Irish), Mahana, Hawaiian for “warmth”, and McGarrett, because you’re ours – our dear boy, our second son, and you will be ours forever.
We’ve learned so much from your brother, and we hope you’ll learn a lot from him too. We hope you’ll learn a lot from us, and we’re looking forward to what you have to teach us, too. Today is a beautiful day, and it will always have a special place in my heart. Me ke aloha, my warm little baby boy. I know your warmth will touch many people throughout your life, may it be long and happy.
Your Father Danny McGarrett and your Daddy Steve McGarrett
***
December 7, 2015
Honolulu, Hawai’i
Dear Rebecca:
Aloha, and Happy Birthday, my beautiful daughter.
It’s been 13 years since I held a newborn baby girl in my arms, and it’s the greatest feeling. When I met you today I saw some of your sister Grace. I never thought I’d have another baby girl, much less one that equals the beauty of her, but you’ve got your own special beauty that draws the breath right out of me and leaves me speechless. That’s why I’m writing you this letter. Your Daddy Steve is reading over my shoulder and said that’s the very first corny Danno joke you’ll have to put up with, although by the time you read this letter, you’ll be sick of them.
As you’ll come to find out, today is a day of remembrance for something terribly that happened here in Hawai’i long before you or I or your Daddy were even thought of. In fact, your Great Grandfather McGarrett died on this day 74 years ago serving his country, and our ‘aina, our Hawai’i. It’s on days like today that I think about how terrible things happen, but life keeps on going. I get scared at the kinds of awful things I see every day, but I take solace knowing I’ve done my best to protect my family – your Daddy, your brothers and sister, and now you and your twin.
We’ve named you Rebecca Ann Momi McGarrett. Rebecca Ann after the woman who lost her husband on that terrible day, Momi which is Hawaiian for Pearl, and McGarrett because you’re the next chapter in a long story of love, and loss that’s been going on since long before you or I were thought of, and will continue long after we’re both gone.
Me ke aloha. Until the end of our days together.
Your Father Danny McGarrett and your Daddy Steve McGarrett
***
December 7, 2015
Honolulu, Hawai’i
Dear Mark:
Aloha and Happy Birthday, son.
You’re my fifth child and my third son, and I’m still amazed at how uniquely beautiful and perfect you are.
It’s a brilliant Monday morning here on O’ahu, not unlike another beautiful Sunday morning here 74 years ago when something terrible happened. You’ll come to learn soon enough what December 7 means to our Hawai’i, our nation and our family. We lost your Great Grandfather McGarrett on that day, who died protecting the things he loved from an enemy he didn’t yet know existed. That’s what your Daddy and I do, too, is protect you and your brothers and sisters and the rest of the people we love, and that’s what makes for a satisfying life. While your life may take a different direction, it’s important that you know how much we all love you, and how much we want you to be happy.
We’ve named you Mark Stephen Moliaola McGarrett. Mark from the Latin after Mars, the God of War, Stephen after your Great Grandfather McGarrett (who your Daddy was also named after), and Moliaola for the Hawaiian word for self-sacrifice. Sometimes life will feel like an ongoing struggle, but it’s important never to stop fighting for what makes you happy, and the best things in life are the things you love more than your life. For me, that’s you, and your Daddy, and your brothers and sisters – our ohana. I love you all more than my life, and if I ever need to, I’ll give my life to protect you.
Me ke aloha. And I’ll give everything to make sure you know it.
Your Father Danny McGarrett and your Daddy Steve McGarrett
***
February 3, 2017
Washington, DC
Dear Jane:
Aloha and Happy Birthday to my beautiful daughter.
You were born here in our nation’s capital because you came earlier than expected, before your birthmother had a chance to get back to Hawai’i. But I still got to hold you today, your real birthday, even though at the moment you were born your Daddy and I were somewhere over Colorado.
But when I held you, my beautiful blonde little girl with sparkling eyes, I knew I would have traveled the world over completely, and you were worth it. I now have three beautiful girls and three handsome boys, but you’re the fairest and most delicate in complexion (at least in your first day). Mark my words now, you will turn heads and break hearts when you’re older.
We named you Jane Shirley Pualani McGarrett. Jane for Jane Austen, a favorite author, Shirley from the Old English for “bright meadow” (your Daddy and I both have some English in us) and Pualani, Hawaiian for Sky Flower, because you blossomed while we were airborne on our way to meet you. There’s an army of brothers and sisters waiting for you at home in Hawai’i but I’m glad you were born here away from all that, because your Daddy and I now have some time to spend with just you while we’re taking you home.
Me ke aloha, my Sky Flower, may you always reach for your namesake in everything you do.
Your Father Danny McGarrett and your Daddy Steve McGarrett
***
September 30, 2020
Honolulu, Hawai’i
Dear Kevin:
Aloha and Happy Birthday, son.
It’s raining today, on the day of your birth. Your Daddy Steve tells me this is a fine, light rain, is much beloved as an omen of good luck and fine fortune in Hawaiian mythology. To me, rain is rain, but I love your Daddy because he’s nothing like me. You remind me of him already though, with your kind eyes and easy smile.
It’s hard to believe you’re my seventh child and my fourth son. You’ve all been so absolutely unique, every single one of you. When I started out as a Father, I thought more about the hopes and dreams and expectations I had for my children, but as they’ve grown, I come to think more about the expectations they have of me, and whether I’ll meet them. It’s always a worry at the back of a parent’s mind whether they’re doing right by their kids, and I can promise you it’s something I think about every single day. So if I ever do anything that you don’t understand or don’t like, I hope you know there’s that there’s well-intended, hope, and love, and fear behind it.
We named you Kevin James Ho’okili McGarrett. Kevin is an Irish name (just like me and your Daddy have Irish in us) that means handsome beloved, James, after your Grandfather Williams, Ho’okili is Hawaiian for the fine, light rain you were born under, and McGarrett for this large unruly ohana we’ve built that you are now a part of.
I love you more than I can say. Me ke aloha, my little boy. I can’t wait to meet the excellent man I know you’ll be.
Your Father Danny McGarrett and your Daddy Steve McGarrett
***
July 31, 2023
Honolulu, Hawai’i
Dear Jacob:
Aloha and Happy Birthday, son.
It’s a beautiful summer night here on O’ahu, one of the finest I’ve seen, and the trade winds are blowing strong off the Pacific Ocean. You were born almost at the end of the day, within an hour of midnight, so you’ll be our midnight baby.
For a midnight baby, you have fine strawberry blond hair, light, bright eyes, and a sense of wonder that has you looking at everything, everywhere. The nurses say they’ve never seen a newborn focus so quickly after birth. Your Daddy thinks you look a lot like me, but he said that when you were being cranky and having a little bit of a cry, so he got his comeuppance for that.
You’re always going to be the youngest McGarrett in our family, for your Daddy and I have decided not to have any more children after you. I suppose that’s the nice thing about having two Dads – when we decide to stop having babies, there are no accidents (by the time you read this letter, you’ll fully understand exactly what that means). So you’ll always be the youngest McGarrett, although your Daddy says the way I’m feeding your siblings, I’ll probably be the smallest here soon enough (he’s such a sweetheart).
We named you Jacob Adam Aumoe McGarrett. Jacob, frankly because your Daddy likes the name “Jake”, Adam, for although you’re the last of our children, you’re equal in our hearts, and we named you after the first man to remind you that among family nobody ever comes last, Aumoe is Hawaiian for midnight because you’re our midnight baby, and McGarrett because you’re the last of our line of McGarretts, and your Daddy and I work very hard every day to make sure it’s a name you can be proud of.
Me ke aloha to our last McGarrett baby. I hope life gives you everything you desire.
Your Father Danny McGarrett and your Daddy Steve McGarrett.