11 July 2015
Vaughn—Here I am on a summer evening. I look at photos of mediterranian gardens. Harry is sitting beside me. I register the not-so-slow cooling of the air against my skin. It’s still light–but the day has lost its brightness; dusk is not far off. Music is playing in the house, and I hear the occasional shouts and calls of children passing by on the street.
This is all pleasant.
And you are not here.
I can work on being present. I can notice how my mind wanders and lead it back. I take some satisfaction from this.
And you are not here
You are not here, Vaughn. How will I ever know what to do with that?
I catch myself feeling a little bit happy–a little bit content, satisfied. But you are not here. You are not here. How can I ever be happy or satisfied if that is the circumstance? And that is the circumstance. For the rest of my life.
Vaughn's Mom 