Today took courage to watch my son from afar holding tight to his father. Not that I didn't want him to, but I needed him in my arms. His father needed him more. I kept out of view for the sake of my child's father. I didn't want my little boy to see me and leave his father's arms. It was one of the toughest things I've had to do, but this was not about me.

On the way to the burial grounds my son saw me and jumped into my arms. I gave him a hug and he held me tight. I don't want to let go, but I must. "Bubby, daddy needs you," I whisper in his ear. He looks at me with understanding and I let him go. He runs back into his father's arms and hugs him tight.

I watched my son's passion towards his father. So nurturing at such a young age. I smile because I know I am raising him to be compassionate. I want nothing more than my son to show the people in his life that he is sensitive to their needs yet strong enough to recognize his own.

I am so proud of my little boy.