How the fuck are you supposed to love a ghost?  This question is especially crucial for me because I don’t actually believe in ghosts at all.  But now I want to believe and not only that, I want to spend my life loving that unseen presence.

That doesn’t seem healthy, though.  I suppose there are ways to do it that you could keep to yourself, but in the end it’s gotta make you a little weird.  And I guess that is the ultimate answer to a question I didn’t even ask.  But that doesn’t matter, the answer doesn’t change.

This tragedy has made us weird in the world.

I wonder if that sensation will last for the rest of our lives.  I think it will.  I hope we can work it in somehow and not just be consumed.  But the complexities of grief are layered with danger and criss-crossed with uncertainties.  Lu is still deeply sad.  I’m sad too, but I’m also pretty pissed off at the Universe itself.  Not a good way to be, really.  Sad is probably better.  Yet too much sadness is destructive as well.

All our circuits are misfiring.  I feel like we are jumping out of an airplane every morning.  All of my endocronic alarm bells are ringing full force to get me to realize that !Something is Wrong!  There is a child you are supposed to be caring for and you don’t know where it is!!  Start the search!  Call in rescuers!  How could you have lost your son you dumbass!??!

Constantly denying a natural instinct is tough work.

We are compelled to love Silas and yet he is not here to receive that love.  Every thought and gesture of love towards our missing son is like another leap out of the airplane into an ether of grief.  The shock and depth of that plummet is so terrifying that we have to work to not keep making that leap.  But to prevent the grief it feels as though we have to deny our thoughts and our love of our son.  And that is terrible.  It is also impossible.

We will never stop thinking about him, and it will never stop making us sad.  We will walk across the earth plummeting in grief over and over again.  Not a healthy way to stroll, I’d say.

So we have to find a way to love our son even though he is a ghost, which I don’t believe in, but that I can see here in this apartment with us, in my visions of the future, in my dreams, in the eyes of my wife, in the tears of family, in every atom of my being.  We will spend the rest of of lives trying to figure out how to love a ghost and I guess one good thing about that is it’ll be something to do with all the time we have on our hands now.

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