On Saturday morning I dropped Grayson off at his Dad’s house. Overwhelmed by emotion, I buried my face in my hands as Ryan pulled out of the driveway. The past two years raced through my mind, and I sobbed.
Isn’t it funny how we cope with the situations life throws us into? For the past two weeks, I’ve hardly picked up my camera, except for work. I’ve used a litany of excuses: It’s too heavy to lug around, it might get wet in the rain, it might melt in the hot car. I thought nothing of it until we arrived back home on Monday, and I ejected the CF card from my camera and inserted it into the reader on my computer. Not many images. I knew it was Grayson’s last days with me; and there were activities, parties, and just plain routines that I could have photographed to commemorate his last weeks. But, I didn’t. It hurt too much. I didn’t want the reminder. I still don’t. However, someday, someday soon, I will. I will pull up the 2012 folder, open August, and I will not see many events. There will be an empty space. Today, I walked into his room for the first time since he left. Still strewn with rifled clothes and toys, there, too, is an empty space. In time, my heart will move on. Someday, I will say I’m okay and it will be true. I will be able to spout my glass-is-half-full talking points and not feel bitter hatred. But, until he comes home, there will always be an empty space.
