I Know Where I've Been

on MLK's Birthday, 1/21/08, only 8 months or so before he died.

Chapter One, Volume 2

How do you pick up the threads of an old life?
How do you go on when in your heart you begin
to understand there is no going back? There are
some things that time cannot mend, some hurts
that go too deep that have taken hold.
- Tolkien

I am not a morning person either, for that matter. In fact, since I was a kid, I have always gotten a sour stomach in the morning.

In the wee hours of September 14, 2008, at home, Cameron quietly expired, after almost 15 years on Earth (counting the year between his birth and his first birthday). It was surreal to come downstairs, see him lying there spiritless and still warm, but cold nonetheless. Sour stomach.

I sat and stared for about half an hour (an eternity), trying to burn the moment, then went back up to sleep. I'm not altogether sure if I have awoken since that moment.

Everything since that day has been an airy blur. Like walking in a dream, or floating down a stream where the current is just this side of too strong and you just... surrender to it. No choice. You flow where it takes you, powerless to control your journey. Not afraid, just resigned to let it carry you along, suspended like driftwood. Your limbs are numb, so you couldn't swim to the bank, even if you wanted to. Or dance. You've lost your rhythm, and you just have to wait for the blood to rush back to your fingertips and toes. You long to dance again. It's not the same dance. That dance is done. The music has stopped, and you wait for the next record to drop. A new song. A new rhythm. No timeline, no promise that the blood will circulate in you again. Just wait to hear the new music start. Wait for it... wait for it... it's not my rhythm. Limbo. I hate limbo.

I love my Scotty. My husband. He is the raft I am attached to, he is why I can trust that the blood will return to my limbs. He is tendering me down this stream of semi-unconsciousness. I trust that he will know when it is time to pull over, shake it off and get on with things. He's really good that way. The German in him, I think. We have been together just a year. Several people have asked, "Are you sure it's not been two?" I love that. I love my Scotty. Everyone loves him. Cameron loved him so much. I will always remember the day Cameron leaned over and whispered to me, "I feel like he's another Papa to me." Permission to engage.