Shattered Glass

Damian,  Today is Christmas. It's been a little over a year since we lost you but here we are. Here I am.  As is always the case, I miss you. I am relieved to tell you, however, that it's not with the soul crushing hopelessness and despair that marked the first few days, weeks and months following your death.  Your absence still hurts, but it's different now – less acute, less omnipresent. I am confident that I can live out my days like this, even if nothing else changes. I can live with these feelings. What I felt in the beginning was not sustainable or livable – it was excruciating. So much so that I all but begged to be put out of my misery. I think I stuck it out because I felt I owed it to your mom. She had already been through so much. I wanted to do what I could to help her survive this ordeal. I'm glad that I did.  Your mom is also now in a much better place. It's taken a lot of work, but she is able to laugh again and enjoy herself. We went to a party last ...

Today marks the 1 year anniversary of Damian's passing. One. Whole. Year.  Looking back, it's difficult to say how I feel today about everything that I've gone through. That Dawn and I have gone through, together. "Surreal" still comes to mind, but not exactly for the same reasons as it did in the beginning. Well, some of the old ones are still there..  Did this really happen?  Is Damian really gone?  Has it really been a year since that December morning when I (we) lost my (our) only son and my (our) world irrevocably shattered?  ...but now there are new ones as well: Did I really travel to Rhode Island to tour a school that teaches the art and science of wooden boat building?  Am I serious about moving to RI so I can attend this school?  How and when did all these new people that I feel so connected to come into my life?  "Grateful" is another feeling that runs very deep. As difficult as this journey has been (and at times, still is), I struggle...

Fear. It comes in many forms. The form I'm facing right now is that of uncertainty and risk. I have a decision to make about my future – correction: about OUR future. I know what I want to do, that part is easy. It's the decision of whether or not to make that left turn at this stage in life that scares me.  A couple of weeks ago, Dawn and I went to Rhode Island for a long weekend, ostensibly to 'get away' for a few days. Or so we told people. The reality was slightly different.  For as long as I can remember I have been drawn to the water, boats, and sailing. While I have been able to realize my passion for sailing and racing, there has been another aspect to my love of boats that has gone unfulfilled – learning how to build them. Of special interest to me is the art of wooden boat building.  Unlike boats built from myriad other construction materials (namely fiberglass), wooden boats are alive. Rich with character and old world charm. The craftsmanship that goes into ...

Dear Damian,  It's been a while since I wrote you last. Sorry for the long delay. Please don't interpret this to mean that I've moved on or don't think about you that much any more. This is definitely not the case. While I have been busy – no excuse – I just kind of ran out of steam and needed a break. That said, Andrea has cracked the whip and told both me and your mom to get writing again...So here I am.  Don't hate me (us), but we bought a big boat. It's a 1988 Cal 28-2. She went into the water yesterday. I spent that previous 9 days working my butt off getting ready for yesterday's launch – lots of buffing, polishing, and waxing. She looks really good between the waterline and the rub rail. Now that she's in the water, I'll start working to deep clean the topsides. We haven't gone sailing yet as I still need to tune the rig, get the boom attached, and string all the running rigging. That will happen sometime next week.  Your mom is obviously ...

I went into the office today. Saw some people I hadn't seen in a long time. Had some good conversations, but one stands apart from the rest.  Michelle and I haven't always seen eye-to-eye. Not sure why, but there's always been kind of an antagonistic vibe floating in the air when we're around each other. It could be that I'm imagining it, but I don't think so. Anyway, she was walking past my office late this afternoon and stopped when she saw me. We said hello and I asked her how her summer was and if she had gone anywhere. She told me about her children, one in college the other in high school, both seniors. She asked me how I am – ok – and how Dawn is. Up and down, I told her. It was at this point that I just went all in and told her how difficult it's been at times, struggling to make sense out of what had happened. How some days can still knock us – mostly Dawn at this point – for a loop. Sometimes we see it coming; other times not so much. I told her ho...

What is real? I don't recall asking myself this question before Damian died, but now that he's gone, I'm giving it a lot of thought. It usually comes on the heels of me thinking about Damian and then wondering if he was real. As in: Did he really exist? Of course, I know that Damian was real.  The pain that I experienced is evidence enough of this. I do believe, however, that my mind struggles with this because it can't process his sudden and irrevocable absence. It's hard to accept consciously. I can't begin to pretend to understand what it's doing to my subconscious. All I can see is the byproduct – my monkey brain asking weird questions and struggling to find the right answers... Yesterday I accepted an invitation to go sailing / racing at the end of October. I had the opportunity to crew in a race this coming weekend, but I couldn't bring myself to say yes. Saying ok to the end of October feels safe. Probably because with so many weeks between now an...

I'm having (or did have) a bit of rough afternoon. Dawn and I are in Wilmington (NC) visiting my aunt. Damian loved it here. My aunt Emily is a lot of fun to be around and there is a lot to do here, much of it revolving around the water.  Today, the 3 of us headed south to Fort Fisher and caught the ferry to Southport. On the ferry ride back (to Fort Fisher) I became keenly aware of the hole in my soul. Damian should be here with us. It's wrong that he's not. For the last few hours, I haven't said much. I just withdrew myself from the conversation. If I had my druthers, I'd probably take it one step further and hide in the bedroom, or, better yet, snap my fingers and teleport back to our house. It's my safe zone, which is ironic since this is where Damian chose (?) to take his own life.  Dawn and I were talking a few days ago about the stigma of suicide. I asked her if she thought people would treat us differently if Damian had been killed in an accident or died...