There is a quiet, almost unspoken bond of devotion which a parent has for a child. No one on earth knows the heart and soul of a child in the way a parent knows.
I adore my child. And I remain just as adoring a parent as the day my child was born. If truth be told, I am also in constant wonderment of my child as my child, day-by-day, grows older. My child’s gentle spirit will remain strong; my child’s willingness to be caring is God-given; and my child’s creative and inquisitive personality is self-acquired.
Yet, as my child grows older, I can still search for and find in that face that same child which I have prayed for every day since my child’s moment of birth. And I already miss my child … because just as a meandering stream carries a single leaf ever onward and away from its point of beginning, so does each passing day carry my child towards a life joined in spirit with, and yet separate from, mine. Although I try to remember that we are all children, with some of us simply older than others, I also know that I shall be a parent forever, and my child shall always be my child.
I pray that my child always has a strong sense of home. My child should always know and feel that the love of this parent is everlasting, timeless … and unconditional.
I write this in tribute to my child.