You’re 18 months today and you are totally unaware of the evil that occurred, today. When I read that 20 children were slain today because of one person, all I could do was hold and kiss you. You got into so much today and you clocked me a few times with really solid and blunt objects (i.e. your toys) and all I could do was be grateful that you’re here with me. I listened to your laugh, your cries, your frustration; all of your emotions, today; it was music to my ears. The shooting that happened in Connecticut makes me want to shield you from the outside world. I want to keep you in my arms forever, but I know that I cannot.
It hurts to know that there are 20 children that won’t be here to open up their gifts this holiday. There are parents who will have to bury their little ones and say their goodbyes. I cannot begin to fathom the pain and anguish the parents are going through now, and I hope I never have to. When a parent lose a child, I don’t understand how they can live on from there. What pushes them forward? What gets them through the week? How can time ultimately make things easier for a parent who loses a child? I can’t seem to wrap my head around how strong they must be.
Adam, I tell you that I love you every day, at least 50-100 times. You are the center of my universe, the apple of my eye, my little sunshine. You’re my hero, you’ve saved me more than once and I thank you by showing you all the love I can give to you. I can’t picture my life without you in it and for that very same reason, I make sure I cherish every single moment I have with you; the good and the bad.
One day, I will no longer be here but by then you will be confident in knowing that I loved you more than life itself and would give my life protecting you.
I love you, sweetheart.