River
Daniel’s cries are sharp enough to splinter my heart.
He clings to me with tiny fists, his face red, and tears soaking into my shirt. He isn’t hungry because I’ve already fed him. He’s not tired. Well, he probably is now from all the crying. But I do know that he isn’t sick because I’ve already taken him to the doctor just in case. I did because I was so worried when Daniel wouldn’t stop crying. I thought perhaps he had colic or something. But he doesn’t.
He’s grieving.
He’s missing his father.
Missing the warmth of Damian’s arms, the rumble of his voice, the steady heartbeat Daniel always fell asleep against. Our little boy loves his daddy. Daniel was so used to having Damian here, holding him and telling him how much Daddy loved him, that the past few days have been hard for o
