It’s been 36 days now since you left us, Blake. I wonder
where your spirit is. The memory of you sitting up between my knees, smiling
while I make you dance along to the terrible singing that drives your brother
nuts! It’s what I see now. It’s what I choose to remember. The rest is too
painful. Maybe one day. I miss our easy time together, you’d cry, I’d get
frustrated, but it was easier the second time around with you. I didn’t worry
as much, I almost knew what I was doing. I’d get you to calm down, but I couldn’t
keep up with your brother and you yet. Two on one was just too much for an
inexperienced dad. I was told before Keller was born, by a good friend, “you
don’t have to know how to parent, just make your decisions with love in mind”.
I still hear it to this day. I’d throw you on my shoulder and you were content
as long as I was moving. I wasn’t worried as much about you as I was with
Keller, you were the tough one, you were the big one, putting on weight, your
bowels seemed better than his, but your mom did most of work with you. I relegated
myself to caring for Keller. It was easier, I know him, his quirks, his needs. He
could talk and tell me too. Somewhere around five or six weeks though, you and
I started hitting it off. We were becoming buddies. I don’t know how to let go
of the hope that we’ll have that chance again. I don’t think I have to. That
hope makes this more tolerable.
I see patients at work every day. They tell me that if there’s
a small chance something can go wrong, they’re the ones it’s going to happen
to. Everything bad happens to them. I never thought that way. I don’t want
Keller to have to, or to grow up thinking that way either. Bad things happen.
We choose how we respond to them. We cannot control what happens to us, only
our response.
I won’t let Keller go through life thinking he’s a victim.
He is not. Optimism. Contentment. Opportunities. There are enough people in
this world that fail to see any good even in the brightest light. I search
daily, hourly, sometimes moment to moment still, for that bigger picture of why
you were forced to leave us. We must remain optimistic, without hope there is
no faith, no belief. Contentment, we have what we need: love. We’ll figure the
rest out as needed. Opportunities, with every disaster there is an end, and a
response. We choose what that is. There are so many things we can learn from
this time to help become better parents, friends, moms, dads, sons, daughters, brothers,
sisters.
That’s not to say the bad moments don’t take hold. The
easiest path to take is to run. There are days I want to run away, far and
fast. However, my mother, your grandmother, taught me over the years that there
will be days where I have to eat shit. I just need to be thankful I’m full.
That’s optimism. I’ve swallowed a lot in the past 36 days. I watch my friends
who go through this daily struggle, strive to be better each day, to put
purpose to a life that no longer beats from a single heart, but thousands of
ours. It gives me hope that I’m showing you these things, Keller. That you’ll
be a better human because of all this. Because of us. Because of Blake.
I know this pain is a permanent one. I’ve been struggling to
accept this for the past few weeks. I can look to new friends now and see that
the pain doesn’t have to be incapacitating, that we can keep putting one foot
in front of the other. Eventually, they won’t be as heavy, and we can lead
others down this path too. There will be more. They will know it too. That’s
realism, but it provides an opportunity to put our strength on display to
comfort them when it’s their time in need.
Keller you’re headed to the beach this weekend. You’ll have
your grannies and your papas. Your life is so amazing, watching you experience
the world just makes my heart smile. I hope you’re able to find this love one
day. It’s unlike any other. I’m headed to the mountains to be with Blake. I’ve
been missing him so much lately, I want to talk to him. I thought a church
would offer that, but I don’t belong in a church right now. My anger with the
belief system of our culture prevents me from that privilege. I’m going to the
highest point I can find, I’ll carry pieces of him with me. I need to catch him
up on what he’s missed. I hope to catch up on what I’ve missed.
That day was 36 days ago. The world never stopped. In fact,
it’s sped up. I couldn’t put that moment on hold. I couldn’t bring you back.
For a while that day, I remember thinking that it just couldn’t be real. That
these things don’t happen to us. They do. They do indeed. Our response
determines Blake’s legacy, Keller. It’s up to us to determine what that is. I
love you, buddy.
