To Dad

It is my first Christmas without you. When you died, I barely cried — but today, I’m crying.

I hope that when you look down on me, on the son I’m raising, that you’re proud. That you understand that the silence wasn’t because I didn’t love you. It was because I love him more. That I will do anything to protect him. And that his vibrant innocence is worth every ounce of that protection.

I started a novel because I couldn’t imagine dying without leaving behind a portion of my mind for my son.

Some of your writings are in the storage room, safe. We won’t forget your mind either.

I love you, and I always will.

Merry Christmas.