How I miss this boy, this man, my son, companion, teacher. . . I miss his ebullience, his appetite, his wisdom and intellectual daring. I miss his dimples, his clear eyes and clarity of thought. I miss the 'bigness' of him, his patience and integrity, the sight and sound of his bare feet on beach sand, boardwalk and forest floor. . . I miss our conversations, his wry humour and thoughtful insights. I miss the way he opens doors, skims stones and butters toast. I miss seeing his car keys on my kitchen bench and his size fifteen shoes at my back door.
Over the years - for better or worse - I've become well-versed at the art of living with 'presence-in-absence', but. . . well, you know, sometimes being on the opposite side of the world from loved ones really sucks. Today it does. And - bloody hell - I'm missing him Big Time.
Yes, we're all connected and there's no such thing as separation, really, and yes, I absolutely celebrate his autonomy and independence and vision. But today, the UK (where, T assures me, he is thriving) might as well be a galaxy away.
Life. 'Tis one blessed paradox after another.
