This pit in my stomach is a sign of the uneasiness I feel every second of every single day. It hasn’t let up as time has gone on, it’s actually getting worse. This uneasiness is there to take the place of Silas being here with me, with us. He also has found himself a spot on the forefront of my brain, kind of like in my 3rd eye. The place where I am supposed to have found enlightenment, but is also what is believed to be the place where mental images are evoked that have deeply personal or spiritual significance. Silas lives in that place 24/7. I think the only time I can push the thoughts of him aside are when I’m watching enjoyable tv or teaching. Otherwise, his unmistakable absence is firmly planted in every part of my being.

We went to visit my parents in Florida a few weekends ago. There was this dark cloud of What Should Have Been, hanging over us the whole time, it was unmistakable in its presence. My parents have been waiting a very long time to be grandparents. I am almost 38 and the oldest child and there are no other grandchildren yet in our family. It is time, and has been for awhile. Down there, pretty much every single friend of my parents are grandparents, and they just could not wait for their turn. It was wonderful to see them, to spend time, to relax and enjoy the really hot Florida sun.  But we all knew what was missing. It made the trip really, really sad for all of us.

My days are filled with his absence. I know it isn’t healthy for me to think about how he should be here and how he would fit into my every day, but I do it anyway. I can’t help it. When Bandha wakes me up every single morning at 6:30am to be fed and to be let outside, I imagine it to be Silas waking me up. I think that Chris and I sleep as late as we possibly can, every single morning, just because we can. Waking up is the hardest part of the day. I fall asleep no problem, and even stay asleep. But I always crawl back into bed after letting the cat out, and then never want to get out of bed again. We drag ourselves up, unwillingly, because we both have a lot to do each and every day.

This absence is filled with work, work and more work. We are both building our businesses and spend as much time as we can just working hard. It is filling this void, this constant emptiness we feel and it is just a really good distraction.

I am finding myself having to confront the world of the 6-8 month old almost every single day. If it’s not a parent hanging out with one while i’m teaching a class, its a woman calling me to register for my teacher training and telling me that it will be the first time she’ll be away from her little one. It’s all very innocent for all the non-babylost parents out there. But for someone like me, the mere mention of an 8 month old sends me bawling from the elliptical and into the bathroom for 10 minutes until I gather myself. Why I’m being tested like this, I’m not sure.

As much as Silas has been filling my thoughts, I haven’t really felt a sense of him with me that much. We do have this thing for hawks, though, and are pretty much obsessed with the fact that they are everywhere and are so beautiful to watch as they sail gracefully above us, surprisingly here in CT. I try really hard to feel Silas in these amazing birds of prey. The other day though, I had an encounter that was like no other I’ve ever experienced in my life. I was standing outside a school where another teacher and I had just taught some kids yoga. We were chatting away, when suddenly, a humoungous bird swoops down in front of us, practically eye level, and then flies off staying really low for a bit before heading up to a tree. I looked at it with my jaw dropping and said “was that a hawk?” My friend looked at me and said “you know what that means right?” and we just looked at each other, started crying and hugging and just stood there in shock. I felt it with all my heart and soul. It was my little Silas, just letting me know that he was here with me, filling up a little of that emptiness, even if it was just for a split second.

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