Connections

Colby's urn arrives via UPS. How can I explain the feelings I have swirling around as I open the package? I can't possibly begin to. The urn is simple, yet elegant, and is made out of natural fibers, as Colby would have wanted. He felt strongly about bio fuels and not using more of the earth's resources than were needed. I tried to choose what he would have liked and hope I did okay. For a time I hold the urn and cry. Today I have expected Colby to walk in the door so many times. Then I remember and I jolt back to reality. Each time is like a fresh wound. He was only 23. He should be here.

I call a cousin of my Mother's that I've only met a few times. She has been kind enough to mail me information on my great and great-great grandparents and I want to tell her about Colby. We talk of the mental illness that runs in that branch of the family. So many similar stories like Colby's running back generation after generation. I am sad Colby isn't here to see the photos of his ancestors, then realize it's possible that all the ancestors are with him now. He doesn't need photos. He has the real thing!

I get details of a pancake breakfast the local Masonic Lodge is giving in Colby's name and post it on ColbyKeegan.info along with information on a benefit show a friend of his is organizing. This shouldn't be happening, I think. My son should be here. But, of course, he isn't.

A friend calls with information on a young woman who is in trouble. I tell her to hold the woman close, don't let her out of sight until help can be found. Doesn't matter if it is days, weeks. If I had the chance, I would lock my son in a padded room until I found the medical and mental help he needed. I don't care if it's illegal. I don't care that he'd hate me forever. I'd do anything to keep him safe and I tell the caller that, then I say a prayer for the young woman.

My mother's phone is busy most of the day. Deep down I know it's been unintentionally knocked off the hook. But I worry, grow frantic at times. What if she's hurt and tried to call for help? She's my only close family and I'm not ready to let go of her yet. She's 86. I am terrified something has happened to her. I call again and the phone rings. All is well.

I have not eaten today. I know I need to but I can't. I just can't. I drink some juice and hope I can eat tomorrow. Tonight I will think good, strong, positive thoughts about eating. And I will also think of my son and remind myself how fortunate I was to have him for as long as I did.