I tried, Ryan.

But my words were empty, scattered like a careless wind. They held no weight, no direction, silent and brooding. Like a great tree that looms and reaches for the tender sunlight but finds it’s roots buried deep and unyielding.

From the moment you were placed into my arms, words became powerful; a singular force that expressed all that this world now held with you in it. Whispers of love, incantations of protection, gentle coaxing, stern reprimands, one-sided lectures, embarrassing cheers, sly jokes and belly laughs; my thoughts laid bare. The language that, we as parents, use to guide your actions; to navigate your soul and to demonstrate our uncompromising, unconditional love.

But on the day, you turned 22, I couldn’t, for the life of me, think of any. None that would bring comfort. None that would lessen a quiet anger that always seems to linger on the periphery. Not one word that would take away a year of longing, nor 365 days that came and went without you.

Tears fall. Hearts break. Souls shatter.

But it wasn’t always that way.

Once, I celebrated. There was a time, where I felt nothing but joy as the day approached.

“Come Fairies, take me out of this dull world, for I would ride with you upon the wind and dance upon the mountains like a flame!” ~ William Butler Yeats

Baby boy, I pray that wherever you find yourself, that the language of love will be as strong as all the words I could possibly bestow upon you.

Happy Birthday Ryan.