When the phone rang last night, no one jumped out of their skin. We knew where my older son was, that he was safe and that this wouldn't be another one of those horribly fucked up calls (it turned out to be someone confirming my wife's haircut appointment for today).
This past week has more than sucked and I don't know what I would've done without you. If there's any good news, I guess it's that I'm not walking around with the usual chest pains, but I'm not feeling that sense of relief I thought I'd be feeling either. That sense of exhalation, or to be more blunt -- liberation -- that my wife and younger son seem to be enjoying.
My wife has been laughing again and I wouldn't be surprised if we had sex sometime soon. And my younger son has been celebrating with several boxes of Entenmann's donuts all to himself and inviting his friends to sleep over again. There's just an overall lightness in our house right now that we haven't felt for a long time.
Truthfully, I've been scared to feel that light, to get too close to it because maybe it will feel too good and I'll like it too much. And maybe that light is our life without my older son in it. And that's what scares me the most. So I stand guard against the light because -- no matter how often he stumbles in and out of the dark -- I can't imagine life without him.
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