For as long as I could remember, my parents read a book to me before bed. It was our little tradition and I always looked forward to it as a way to end the day. This night was different as dad wasn't there, and I saw a sadness in my mom's eyes that I had never seen before. As she flipped through the pages of the familiar book, I wasn't even looking at the pictures but was focused on her face. I hated when mom had to read it to me without dad, it just didn't seem right. It seemed like she was the most upset I had ever seen her, and this was not a part of our tradition that I liked. I could see how much she missed dad..and so did I.