It was Mother’s Day yesterday.
Other than on the morning when Andrew died, Robert cried for the first time last night.
I was almost asleep when I suddenly sensed his presence. Looking up, I saw him standing by my bed.
“I can’t sleep,” he said.
“Get in,” I said, lifting the blanket and moving toward the center of the bed to make room for him.
With my arms around him and his face resting on my shoulder, I realized that he was crying, sobbing quietly.
“What’s the matter darling?”
“I miss Andrew,” he said, his face wet with tears.
Robert is home today, resting and grieving. I can’t write today, I’ll see you tomorrow.