My husband, Tyler, has been a commercial pilot for almost nine years, but our 7-year-old son, Mason, had never actually been a passenger on a plane his dad was flying.

 

Mason was sitting at the hotel desk, drawing another airplane. This time, there were no people beneath it.

 

I walked over and sat beside him.

 

“Do you want to see Dad today?” I asked.

 

He continued coloring the wings.

 

“Will he bewith Vanessa?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Will he tell her that she’s more important than us?”

 

My heart ached.

 

“I don’t know that either, sweetheart.”

 

Mason set down his pencil.

 

“Then I don’t want to see him yet.”

 

I nodded.

 

“That’s okay.”

 

He looked up at me.

 

“Are you mad at him?”

 

“Yes,” I admitted. “I’m hurt, too.”

 

“Are you going to stop loving him?”

 

I took his little hands in mine.

 

“Your dad and I have grown-up problems to figure out. But you never have to earn my love, Mason.And none of this is your fault.”