Empty

It is another beautiful day, sweet boy. I feel a little steadier today. Still so very sad and lost but steady in this place.

Steve took me to the Overlook Produce to look at plants. I was afraid of how I might react when I saw Buc-ees across the street. How you loved that place! You would sign “mouse” and “cheese” to let me know when you wanted to go there which was more often than we could. You were so clever and thought Buc-ee was a mouse and knew it sounded like “cheese”. You had your own language and I was privileged to understand.

We would get your favorite banana pudding and drive to the Harrisonburg Mall. I would intentionally park at the Old Navy entrance so you would have to use your walker the full length of the mall to the food court. You were always very food motivated. You would sit there and enthusiastically eat every bite while waving to people around us. I will forever remember the staccato movements you would use to scoop the pudding to get as much as possible in one spoonful.

As we drove today I felt an emptiness. It is always present but this was different. From the years of helping with Grief Share I often heard people speak of the relief that came when they didn’t have to intensely care for someone any longer. They weren’t happy their loved one was gone but they felt a sense of alleviation to not have the responsibility.

I looked out the window at the mountains in the distance. I didn’t have that feeling I held for twenty-four years. Even when you were in school or we were apart I never settled. At night I slept lightly always with the ringer on because I knew at any moment you might need me. You were ever present in all I did. I was always at the ready and now that I find no relief to no longer be.

I find it empty in this place. The awful emptiness where something valuable and important was and now nothing remains.

I got home and the basement door was open. You are gone and now we don’t need to be sure you can’t access the stairs. Scissors lay gently on the coffee table where they could never be for fear of you finding them and getting hurt. I no longer scan the floor a thousand times a day seeking small objects you could ingest. Almost a quarter of a century of diligence all for you are no more.

There is no relief. Only a vast emptiness where the hypervigilance once sat and never slept. See, in that space was where I loved you best, where I protected you from anything that could harm you. The two things, however, my sweet boy, I could not protect you from was your own body and God’s timing.

To me, they were both beautiful and awful and merciful and cruel. I miss you endlessly