I can grasp fragments of the world and every now and then I manage to assemble a clear picture that I can hang on to for a while.  This apartment has been the cocoon in which I have begun to reassemble my brain.  Short jaunts around the neighborhood under close supervision have not led to any serious incidents, and it appears I will be able to re-enter society, albeit briefly, tomorrow morning.  I’m back to work roasting and selling coffee, but it is work I love so it’s time to just do it.

I am not looking forward to the initial encounters with… everyone.  Most of my wholesale accounts know about Silas, but random people I have met over the course of the summer are in for a very sad and unpleasant conversation.  They are going to be embarrassed and heartbroken, I’m going to feel bad about how bad they feel while I also try to repress and deny the Abyss so close.

If I can’t help it or it’s just time to release I will be unable to drive and so I will sit in the shadow of an underpass as the sunlight falls around me and I will cry, again, that my son isn’t with me, still.

I must go forward, though.  I must not be broken.  I must make sure Lu stays whole and our families don’t fragment on the slight, sharp edge of Silas’ life.

There is no way for our lives to be as ‘good’ as they would have been if Silas had not died.  But we can try.  We can try to fill up our lives and the lives of those around us with as much ‘good’ as we can muster in order to attempt to make up for what Silas could have brought to this Universe.

Our friends and family are doing everything they can to refill our souls.  So many amazing people have stepped through these doors to be with us and stuff us full of food and friendship and quiet love.  I have spent more time with my brothers and parents than I have in years.  The outpouring of condolences in the form of arrangements of fruit that are edible, to pies made from apples, to trees planted in our son’s name, to cold hard cash to help with the bills, it has all been overwhelming, appreciated and extremely unexpected, in a variety of ways.

Therefore, please forgive me when I say that I would trade all of it and so much more for my son to be alive.  That probably sounds somewhat callous but there it is.  The math in this Universe will never add up for us.  Silas alive and with us right here, right now is always better.

He could have been a car thief, but I promise you it would have been for a good reason.  He could have been a musician, even though you might not have liked his tunes. He could have been a pain in the ass teenager, a colicky baby and a grumpy old man and I would be a-ok with it all.

I would give anything to be lying awake right here tonight terrified that his tiny sniffles could be the onset of a bad cold or maybe even Lyme disease.  After all, we three would have spent the last week in the back yard watching Chumby chase squirrels and Bandha figure out the best ways out of the yard. There are ticks everywhere!

We have everything besides Silas, and Silas is all we want.  Ain’t that just grand?

He would have been my best friend, someday.  The abrupt ending of his possibilities is almost impossible to comprehend.  Thinking about it sends my mind over a cliff.

So tomorrow when I’m at work, please don’t be surprised if I don’t break down in tears as I tell you about Silas Orion.  I have already cried for those moments.  I have already thrown my mind off of that particular cliff, a few times.

Every candle flame that I see reveals Silas to me, briefly, beautifully, untouchable, unknowable. I will forever search my dreams for him and I will try to fill my days with love and patience in his honor.  We can’t make the math right, but we sure can fucking try every damn day.