To Daddy with love

As I watch my husband sleep, seeing him hug the pillow we had made with Frank's initial, my throat tightens and I ache for him.  He went back to work the Monday after we buried our little boy.  I didn't.  I still haven't.  And, though I'm returning for a couple days next week, as a school secretary, I have the summer off.  I have even more time to grieve and cry and go to therapy appointments in the middle of the day.  When does my husband have time to grieve?  He says he's fine but when I see him clutch that pillow, I wonder.

Today is Father's Day.  My husband's first Father's Day.  Frank should be here now.  I imagined my husband on Father's day, a proud papa carrying his little buddy around for others to admire.  I'm trying to make this weekend as great as possible for my husband but Frank isn't here and I can't do anything about the emptiness. 

To my wonderful daddy,

I'm sorry I can't be with you today.  I know how much you love and miss me.  I hope you can feel some joy this Father's Day knowing that I will always be your son and you will always be my daddy.

love,

Frank