Day 157

My monkey brain was working extra hard yesterday. I was mowing the lawn so it had time to roam. (Free-range monkey brain?) It came up with all kinds of crazy-ass "what if" situations. The weirdest one (by far) started off like this: What if the police come knocking on our door demanding to speak to Damian. Here's how the scene unfolded in my head. 

Door bell rings, I answer. There are two Gwinnett county police offers on the front stoop with stern looks on their faces. 
          Me:     What can I do for you officers? 
    Cop #1:     We need to speak to your son. It's important. 
          Me:      Yeah, I don't think that's going to happen. Can you tell me what this is about?
    Cop #1:     Your son was seen vandalizing the property of one of your neighbors. They have it  on video so the evidence is pretty convincing that it was your son. 
          Me:     I can say with a high degree of confidence that this is a case of mistaken identity. Just out of curiosity, which of my neighbors is accusing Damian of this crime?
    Cop #2:     Look. We know it was your son. We watched the video. It will be easier for everyone if you just let us do our job. I'm sure you think your son is innocent but believe me, teens will do all kinds of stuff when they think no one is watching. 
    Cop #1:    It's the neighbor over there in the cul-de-sac. 
He points to one of the houses in our cul-de-sac 
           Me:    Albert. Figures. He's kind of a dick. My son never liked him. 
    Cop #1:     So can we talk to him? Is he home? 
           Me:    Yeah, he's home but I don't think he will have much to say. 
     Cop #2:   Let us do our job and this will all be a lot easier for everyone involved. 
           Me:   Sure. Have it your way. Come on in. 
The cops trundle into the house. I shut the door behind them. They stand there milling about in the foyer, looking around. 
           Me:    Let's go into the kitchen. You can sit at the table while I go get him. 
I point them to the table in the kitchen indicating they should sit down. 
    Cop #2:    Where is your son? 
           Me:    He's in the other room, just hanging out. 
I say this as I point behind me from where we had just come. The cops give each other a look as  I walk slowly back to the dining room. 
         Me:     Damian, there are some police officers here to speak with you. Please be polite and answer them honestly. 
I say this with theatrically high volume to make sure everyone in the house hears me. I then coming walking back into the kitchen carrying something. 
        Me:     Well, here he is. 
I say this as I set the urn with Damian's ashes on the table between the two police officers. The cops are now clearly confused. And then I see cop #2 has moved on from confusion to VERY annoyed. 
    Cop #2:    Is this some kind of joke? We need to speak to your son. I'm assuming that you are familiar with the legal term "obstruction of justice"? We can cite you or even arrest you for failing to cooperate. 
          Me:   The only joke here is that my dickhead neighbor has you two barking up the wrong tree. This urn contains the ashes of my dead son – my only son! - who died two weeks before last Christmas. So no officer, I'm not obstructing your investigation. You just got bad intel from someone who has lived across the street from me for the better part of 20 years and is too self absorbed to realize that my son died nearly 6 months ago. And for the record, he's the only neighbor who is oblivious to this fact. So unless this crime happened more than 6 months ago, I am 100% certain that my son had nothing to do with it!
Both police officers turn various shades of red as they realize the gravity of their mistake. 
    Cop #1:     Uh, yeah, this happened last night...We are very sorry that we troubled you sir. I'm very sorry for your loss. 
          Me:     Will that be all, officers? 
I say this without warmth. I'm now pissed but trying to figure out who I'm most upset with – the cops or my awful neighbor. Call it a toss up. 
    Cop #1:    Yeah, we're done here. Sorry to trouble you. 
The cops walk out of the house and I close the door behind them after glaring at them as they walked down the driveway back to their squad car. 
End scene. 

Yeah...this is what I live with. Me and my monkey brain. Who needs drugs and alcohol with this kind of entertainment always on tap...

Had some near misses today. Moments where thoughts of Damian flashed into my mind. I felt like I was going to fall over. Emotionally, not physically. Take a header into the abyss. And then, poof, they are gone. It's so strange. Talking with Dawn about it, I think this still comes down to the issue of acceptance. I'm learning through the benefit of these random reminders that acceptance comes in degrees. Or maybe percentage is a better unit of measure. I know that I'm not at 0% acceptance and that I'm not at 100% either. But where on the continuum I am today is an unknown. 40%? 50% Beats me. It wouldn't surprise me in the least to find out that this continuum is fluid. In both directions, like the stock market. Somedays it goes up, somedays it goes down. And as long as the overall trend is to the positive, what do I really have to complain about.

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