"Come back to me, baby. Come back to us," I whisper, barely able to form words past the huge lump that is growing, larger and larger, clogging my airways and making my eyes sting with unshed tears.
Clinging to the last vestiges of hope that he will come back to me unharmed.
Come back to us.
I grip his shirt tightly in my fist.
Desperately trying to memorize this moment before he walks out of my sight and onto the plane.
Tears that I long to shed, but I have to wait.
'Cause I have to be strong for our little Aidy.
He needs me now.
Tonight, when I am alone and he is safely tucked in bed, then and only then, I will purge my pain, free my fears in the form of gut wrenching sobs.
And I will continue to do so for another month.
Until my love is back in my arms again.