Grief fills the room of my absent child,

Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me,

Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words,

Remembers me of all his gracious parts,

Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form.

William Shakespeare

He is gone, yet I see him everywhere; in actual memories and hopeful imaginations. I see him in the crows flying in the morning light. In the rainbows disappearing into a rolling field. I see him reflected in Niko’s eyes as we press our foreheads together in shared grief. Driving down a street I will catch a glimpse of a young man, head close shaved, hoodie up, coffee mug in hand and my heart momentarily leaps in hope.

I sit in the garden across from his empty chair and he is there; head tilted back, Niko at his feet, the sun warm on his face.

My God, I miss my boy. Every day, I expect to open the garage door and find him having a smoke in his favorite camping chair. Every day I expect this great hole inside of me to get just a little smaller, but instead it grows. I miss his laugh. I miss his calloused hands and his giant smelly feet. I miss his voice. I miss his dirty room. His wit. His smile. The way the crook of his neck smelled when he let me wrap my arms around him for a hug. I loved him long before he was even born and nothing, certainly not death, can diminish the love I feel. He travels with me always.

Those who are near me do not know that you are nearer to me than they are
Those who speak to me do not know that my heart is full with your unspoken words
Those who crowd in my path do not know that I am walking alone with you
Those who love me do not know that their love brings you to my heart

Rabindranath Tagore

 It is usually late at night when the weight of his absence falls most heavily, threatening to bring me to my knees. I find myself immersed in memories of his childhood and in thoughts of the future we have lost; of the man he might have become. The emptiness, the flatness of life without him, is stark and profound.There is nothing heroic or noble about grief.  It is painful hard work, and it lingers a long time.

Oh my sweet Jordan, you “lived and laughed and loved and left” and the world will never be the same without you.