William Adams

Most days, as the sky begins to soften, the kids and I drive — windows down, music up — tracing the skirts of town, checking on the Missouri mules standing knee-deep in clover and late light. We call it, chasing the sun. Our way of spending time together, paying respect to the day; a quiet reverence offered in awe as the evening turns to gold before night falls. The world slows around us, and for a while it’s just us. It’s not just our ritual, but our time — a way to be together, unhurried, wrapped in the last light of day.

Someone recently said to me, no one loves harder than you. I claim those words. For me, love means going for broke — never holding back. In this, I succeeded with my son.

Will taught me long ago that my purpose was not only to grow love, but to bear its witness — to the fierce, in-your-blood, in-your-bones kind of love, to the way devotion, anchored in faith, can rise even under fire, to what endures when the meaningless falls away.

For Will, love was never about warm words, or easy promises — it was boots in the mud, alarms in the night, my hands and heart working through fear and fatigue. Often it was chest compressions, Ambu bags, and nights spent on my knees — sobbing and begging God to protect my son’s life. It was boot camp for the heart — battlefield and baptism all at once. A mother’s devotion, forged in love, fear, and fire, offered back to God every night.

With my son, God was always in the room.

He was born on a day the storm surrendered — sun light falling through moody clouds, tulips lifting as if they already knew. His joyful cry came as a rainbow — heaven’s reminder that love endures the storm.

And in that moment, I was remade.

Few understand: I was his voice, his ears, his legs, his breath. But wearing his Superman socks and cape hanging ready in the closet he was my teacher — God’s quiet hand in motion, showing me that miracles are not always sudden, but often sustained.

His gifts to me were profound — meaning wrapped in radiance, joy disguised as ordinary moments. No matter where we were, animals were drawn to him, especially dolphins and penguins. Whether under a tree or at the beach, he was at home. He would clap with slow appreciation, taking it all in. One of my favorite memories is Sesame Street Live — he was young and completely enthralled — hands clapping non-stop, eyes sparkling, looking over at me again and again as if to say, I can’t believe this. You are the best mom in the whole world. That look, that wonder, that appreciation was his sermon on joy. My heart, saturated with laughter and awe, learned through him that even quiet speaks love — that heaven can be experienced on Earth.

Now, when the light fades, we drive. In spirit, Will joins us, and we chase the sun — following it down long roads toward where sky meets earth, music spilling through open windows, joy packed in our grateful hearts. For our time together stays as long as the sun rises and sets. He is here now — riding piggyback, a smile plastered as big as the moon, heart filled with love, whispering to me, let’s go, momma. Let’s go.

Because love endures. It endures the storm, and the silence after, and the miles between heaven, the sun, and here. So, we together chase the sun, like we always did, like we always will.

A celebration of life for William will be held Monday, November 10, 2025 from 4:00 PM to 7:00 PM at Memorial Funeral Home, 1217 Business Loop 70 W, Columbia, Missouri 65202. Graveside services honoring and celebrating Will's life are Tuesday, November 11, 2025 at 11:11 AM Laurel Oak Cemetery, Windsor, Missouri.