Prayers, July 31, 2009, 9:31 a.m.

My prayers are answered and I awake from a fitful sleep numb. How long does this process go on? I need to eat. I find a local Kroger and stock up my hotel fridge. But I still can’t swallow. With a plastic spoon and a hotel cup I mix a thin homemade shake from some soy milk, yogurt and water. Maybe I need to see a doctor or a counselor or something.

Staying physically busy helps. I unload my books and display racks from my truck and wheel them into the conference area. Set-up is not until noon. I find myself talking to Colby. Is that unnatural? Am I losing it? I so miss our conversations. We usually talked several times a day and when I go out of town he called more often. I miss that. I miss him. I realize I am not the only person who has ever lost a child and want to connect with a support group of bereaved parents. I’d like to help them as much as I know they will help me.

I’m worried about my Mom again, too. Two weeks ago she, Colby and I sat in her box next to her friends at Canterbury Park in Minnesota and watched the horses race. Colby loved Canterbury and began going there when he was three. It’s a family-friendly place and the people there have watched him grow up over the years. Now my mother has to tell these wonderful people who have been so supportive of and interested in Colby that he has died. Just as I felt like I shouldn’t come to speak at this conference in Houston, Mom felt like she shouldn’t go to Canterbury. But that’s so not what Colby would have wanted. He would have been appalled that anything to do with him would interfere with anyone else’s plans. So tomorrow she will go, armed with a big box of Kleenex. I pray her friends surround her with love, just as mine have.