28 March 2015
Vaughn,
It’s the anniversary (second year) of the night before you left this world. I’m watching TV. Should I feel extra sad? Do I need to ‘go there’, feel the pain–that real real pain like a knife slitting my skin?
I don’t even believe in calendars. They are essentially meaningless. But I have lived on this annual cycle: 1 year, 2 years, 3 years. So I suppose my gut reacts. My brain says I ‘should’ feel a certain way.
But it’s really just one more day without you. One more day of knowing you’re not feeling the warm breath on your skin of this extra early summer.
Maybe it’s time to ‘get on’ with my life. Shed my old skin. Like you did, only not so extreme. You always were extreme–like your dad. I will try ‘getting on’ over the next year. I promise to myself. Otherwise what’s the point of fucking being here??
But tonight I’m stuck in my lethargy. Some kind of twilight zone where I’m not feeling that sharp pain, but I’m not really alive, either. It’s oddly comfortable.
Two years. How many more years before I see you? Vaughn I love you. I miss you.
Vaughn's Mom 