It is 7:18 a.m. and Daddy is the only one awake. These are the hardest moments because the chatter of the day to come is silent and I only have my thoughts to keep me company. They are not all sad or confusing thoughts. Actually, many are happy and reflective, but these thoughts are brought into a very crisp focus that often disturbs me. I replay the night of your death and try to find a way I could have prevented it. I picture your Mommy and the images burned into her psyche for eternity. Then I think of Ava and the nightmare she went through with her inconsolable Daddy and the whole police interrogation. Then I picture the last two times I saw you, and neither one is pleasant by any stretch of the imagination. It is in this silence that I ask for your forgiveness and understanding. It is in this silence that I try to find something, anything that makes sense of the senseless nature of an infant...my infant dying. It is in this silence that I get to talk to you, be with you, and cry for you, and it is in this silence that I miss you the most. It is now 7:28 a.m., and the silence will soon be no more, so while we have our time, I am going to stop typing and enjoy our morning silence.
I love you, son