I keep looking for Silas in the pieces of the World, but I can’t find him.  It is only in the ink on my arm, in the ache in my heart, in the searing images in my mind of his brief life that I can find him.

I wish those rainbows filled me with the light of his presence.  But they don’t.  I wish I could see instants of happiness or luck or beauty as his hand at work.  But I can’t.

He feels so far away from me that it takes effort to find ways to hold him close.  He is beyond my reach, beyond my thoughts.  Silas is flying away from me faster than the speed of light, beating time every second he races on into the heart of the Universe, as I stand here on Earth slowly spinning around this dim, distant sun.

When he left he took something from me, something I will never get back.  But that’s okay, I want him to have it.  That missing piece fits perfectly as the place I can fill with my love for him.  The empty ache in the shape of my son is as close as I can get to having him with me.

As always, now, I will take what I can get, even if it is only the pain of Nothing.

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