I’m sorry I made you cry, Ryan.

Today of all days, that is all I can think about. The moments I hurt your feelings, the times that my distracted indifference deflated your childish enthusiasm, the words that came from my mouth that were unnecessary and disheartening.

My mind punishes me.

You were given to me, entrusted in my care on the day you were born, so that I may care and protect you.

And I couldn’t. I didn’t.

You have given me so much.

You made me rethink all my notions of love from the very moment you were placed into my arms. Your eyes brightened when I came in the room and your tiny hands grasped mine so tightly, in fear that I might let go. At one time, I was your whole world.

But baby you have always been mine.

It’s been a year since I last saw you. A year since I kissed your cheek and hugged you close to me. A year since I said good bye.

Your voice comes and goes. The memories, once so vivid are beginning to dull. I no longer smell you in your clothes or in your blankets.

I should be treasuring all that is left to me.

But right now I can’t.

I’m sorry I ever made you cry, my son.