Day 175

I hit a bump in the road today. Nothing major but enough to rule out an eight hour day of office work. I spent the afternoon counter sinking screws in the new closet system instead. I didn't know at first why I was feeling blue but was able to finally put my finger on it earlier this evening: The summer sailing camp season has already started and for the first time in nine years Damian won't be a part of it. Thinking of this made me sad. It still does, even now as I write this.  

Every summer, the sailing club hosts two or three weeks of sailing camps for kids age 7 to 17. The first week is focused mainly on teaching kids how to sail but not exclusively so. The second week, known colloquially as "Junior Week", is the marquis camp of the summer. For all but the true beginners, the focus of Junior Week is on sailboat racing. A lot like any other high school sport, long days are spent learning how to race (if new to the sport), practicing various maneuvers (e.g., tacking, jibing, mark roundings) and actually racing against other kids in the camp, all under the tutelage of competent and qualified coaches. Damian was a part of Junior Week and /or the week of camp that proceeds it since he was seven. The reason I got sad today has less to do with Damian not being there than why he can't be there.

I'm certain that were he still alive Damian would not have participated in this year's sailing camps at the club. The fact is that he had outgrown them. I had encouraged him to skip camp last summer but he went ahead with it anyway because, as he said, he wanted to spend time with his "sailing friends", none of which he went to school with. If he were still here we would have hooked him up with a coach and a club somewhere on the coast. This is what we likely would have done were we still in the Before. But here in the After, there is no point in talking about it because we no longer have these decisions to make. This is why I got sad today. It's not because Damian chose not to go summer sailing camp; it's because he didn't have the choice to make. The decision was made for him the day he died. 

Today, I felt the sting of this. That Damian no longer has any say in what he does or doesn't do. While I didn't always agree with his choices, I admired and respected his opinion and the fact that he wasn't afraid to tell me or his mom want he did or didn't want. He was asserting agency over himself. I was proud of him for reaching this stage in his development and proud of Dawn and I for helping him to achieve it. And now it's gone. No more decisions to make. No more wants to satisfy. The sting will go away but the sour after taste may linger awhile.