It has been almost 5 years without my son, Adam, and not a day goes by that I don’t think of him, wishing I could actually sit down and talk with him, so I do just that…often. I could be home alone cleaning the kitchen and something comes to mind and off I go into a full-on conversation with the air. Other times something will trigger a memory and there I go again talking with him, “remember that time when we…”. And there are those darker moments why I apologize to him for not doing more to save him, usually when those feelings of guilt creep back into my mind.
Some readers may not resonate with this story and that’s ok. Perhaps he isn’t really there and he isn’t really listening. Why have a discussion with nobody? Well of course I cannot prove he is there…I suppose I can’t really call it a conversation when there is no reciprocating voice talking back to me. What I can say is that these moments end with a peace deep down to my core, even after those times when my mom-guilt causes me to ugly cry. His presence in my heart and mind always breaks those dark thoughts allowing peace back in.
Crazy or faith? Crazy faith? I suppose it’s something within us as individuals. I just know that talking with Adam often helps me, and that is a very good thing.