When the boys were little, I’d put them down for their naps in their cribs and play this album. Being Mom was simpler.
What is this sadness I feel?
Jake has not been found; I can’t be mourning his loss. Yet.
So is this fear masquerading as grief?
No. Fear travels on the skin like cold water.
Grief squeezes from within.
It’s a clenched fist wrapped tight around your stomach, whereas fear is a hard cold finger right between your shoulder blades.
And anyway, this is an ache, so it’s neither.
Recently someone said, “No news is good news!”
I’ve been trying to deconstruct that phrase for a week, now.
1. No news is…no news. It is neither good nor bad.
2. No news is terrifying. Given our recent reconciliation, I can’t grasp why my son would still be silent, other than that his body has simply not yet been found.
3. No news is better than confirmation that he’s dead.
4. No news is worse than knowing he is safe.
5. No news sucks.
I deconstruct nearly everything in my head now.
I think I’ve always done this, but I have misplaced my ability to multi-task, along with the desire to do so.
So: some silences.
Not right now.
Right now I’m residing here, in a tiny space of almost not-ness, but enveloped by the warm memory of toddler boys napping to Kitaro while I cross-stitched medieval letters and delicate leaves.