Another morning is here and with it the prospect of filling a day, somehow.  Lu’s sister is on her way and we are so looking forward to seeing her.  She lives in Colorado so we don’t get to see her on a regular basis and her presense in this house will be an enormous help, especially to Lu.

Yesterday our friend Cindi was here and we started to work on the design for the tattoo I will be getting soon.  I had always planned to have the constellation Orion inked onto my skin once my son was born, but now it has taken on a whole new depth of meaning.  It will be a way to carry one aspect of my missing boy with me at all times, forever.

But I still cannot believe that he isn’t here.  I still cannot comprehend how this is the life that we now live within.  There is no center here, no shining, tiny sun of life that we can orbit around.  We had so many plans, so many hopes, so many things we wanted to do with Silas that have now all vanished into dust and smoke.  I want him in my arms but I can only touch him in my heart and mind.  And it’s just not fucking enough.

I have always been a person that looks forward to the small joys in life.  A cup of ice cream to end the night.  A pint and the paper in the yard on a warm summer eve.  My first espresso of the day at our shop Bean & Leaf from coffee I roasted myself.  I’m still finding ways to have those small moments and I’m trying to take pleasure in them, but they are just too brief to fill the tremedous chasm that exists within me, where the pleasure of raising our son was supposed to live.

He was never ours, alone.  We had to share him with the whole Universe as soon as he arrived. That is not the way we wanted it, but the choice wasn’t ours.  The choice we do have is the way in which we go on living, and how we honor our tiny son every day for the rest of our lives.  Yesterday we started to plan how that is going to happen.

Silas will be cremated.  The funeral home already has his remains.  Signing off on that yesterday afternoon was the most horrible use of my signature I have ever had the displeasure to employ.  Part of me wanted to sign it “Fuck You” instead of my name, but I resisted the urge.  Once his remains have been returned to us we are going to find a place to plant a tree, put a bench nearby and have a plaque created to commemorate his brief, shining life.  We want a place to go and love him as a breeze whispers through his tree and his constellation wheels above, always hunting, always bright in the deep darkness of night.

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