Park
Ever since you departed, loneliness had been my companion with fear as my mistress. The two interlocking their arms with mine both scheming to tear my sanity apart.
Our hyperactive ankle-biter reminds the best of us as scoots around in curiosity. With every turn around the tree, he is discovering himself through the world through lenses of imagination.
He does not feel the harshness of growing up, nor would I want him too right now. For childhood is joyful freedom bestowed that they enjoy they may never experience again.
Panic rises as he disappears around the long trunks, to lose the only reminder of your beautiful memory and our creation from God. But I know this is a recipe for disaster, for the tightrope of protecting and smoulder is the balancing act every parent engages in; and too much of “keeping him safe” is really shackles on him.
The real underlying truth is I’m protecting myself through projecting my own lenses of fear. And our bundle of joy would see the world in meekness with tones of fear and rage painting the sky crimson red.
Despair like this will be with me forever. An anvil as my shoulder to carry around for all eternity.
And yet if I preserve our child’s innocence for the right period, then I can redeem my own suffering. For while no wrong was on me when a lumpy mass of death took you; I always wish I had more time with you so it would be three of us. Not two.
