Before President Barack Obama was penning essays and delivering social sermons on fatherhood, there was Ed O.G. & Da Bullldogs. It was the early '90s and the hip-hop quartet from Boston had a hit single on their hands, “Be a Father to Your Child.”

For absentee dads everywhere, it was a call to action, even if it was tantamount to herding cats. For men already doing the right thing, it was affirmation. For me, it was merely a song with a positive message and a dope horn riff. I was 19 years old at the time. Becoming a father to a child was not part of the picture. I was planning to become a producer to some rappers as I fixed my gaze on Atlanta to pursue my own music ambitions. Things changed when I was 21.

Last Wednesday my son turned 18. It seems that he grew up faster than Ed O.G & Da Bulldogs fell off. Where does the time go? I remember holding Michael in my arms for the first time and not wanting to let go. Emotionally, I haven't. Over the years, I've cried for him. On occasion, I've cried with him. Bonding during the good times is great, but bonding during the bad times is cathartic. The latter occasions were numerous. At an early age, my son displayed a propensity for doing things the hard way. He struggled for years with his temper and his academics. As a result, I struggled for years with striking the right balance of support and discipline.

At the time, I unfairly blamed his mother for the reasons our son was constantly getting in trouble in and out of school. She and I never married, but we shared custody. The problem was that our values were different. I wanted things for him she didn't seem terribly concerned with, and I found myself hating her. But I came to the realization that doing so was subconsciously hating a part of him. And to be the father I wanted to be, I had to let go of the ill feelings and accept her and, even more critically, accept the part of her that was in him. It wasn't an easy thing to do, but I did. I had to for his sake.