Day 168

I miss my son. I want to talk to him. To hear his voice. I want to hear his laugh. This need or desire ebbs and flows. Sometimes, like now, the need is more acute. The sense that if I don't satisfy it somehow I will spiral downward palpable. Other times I don't think about it at all, my mind preoccupied by whatever it is that isn't thoughts of him. But now I'm thinking about Damian, wishing so hard that I could put my arms around him, tell him again that I love him and am proud of him. 

Of course I can speak to him anytime that I like as though he were in the room with me, but right now that is not enough. Like a cheap parlor trick, speaking to the void is something to placate the mind and soul when in reality, it really is just a placebo. I know this feeling will pass as they always have, but that doesn't make it any less real or less painful. These are the times when I feel pain. Knowing exactly what I want and also knowing that it's something that I can't have. Will never have...

Today's trigger was the time I spent this morning rewriting the charter for the memorial fund that bears his name. I feel good about the updated version, but writing it felt similar to what I went through putting together his obituary. The act of trying to compress the sum total of his life into just a few sentences. This one was easier because I'm in a better place emotionally than I was the days immediately following Damian's death. Also, because the purpose of the fund is to promote sailing for kids, I was able to shine the spotlight almost exclusively on Damian's sailing experiences rather than the whole of his life. I'm confident that Damian would agree with the purpose of the fund as I've written it. l think he would also be humbled by the fact that people would be willing to put money into a fund that bears his name. Or as least as much as a 15 year old can be humbled. 

Another placebo I willingly swallow in the hope that it will make me feel better about him not being here...

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