Friday, August 21, 2009

Doors

Our dog (or now my dog), Abby, has been barky and jumpy ever since Colby passed. Tonight she is especially so. Colby frequently forgot his keys and would knock twice on the door, then stand on his tiptoes and peer into the small, arched window toward the top. Abby barks wildly at the door and looks to me several times so I can peer out the top. I can't remember the number of times Colby and I met eye to eye that way. I go to the door and look out. But of course, tonight Colby is not on the other side of the door. No one is, but Abby keeps barking anyway. I'm not sure what triggered her barks, but she thinks Colby should be there . . . and so do I.

I pick up Colby's death certificate. That's something a parent should never have to do. To compound the difficult task, I am given wrong instructions about where to pick it up. Twice. So I spend the entire morning driving around downtown Nashville looking for a parking spot, only to have to jump back in the truck a few minutes later to search out another building and another spot.

I am physically and emotionally drained. I want to back life up and start over on a day before Colby left us. This is too hard. Way too hard. All I can envision are the sad, lonely days ahead without my son. But I will get through this. Somehow. There must be a door somewhere that I can walk through that will make life okay again. I have things to do. I have Colby's memory to honor, and there are many people who need help. Maybe someday I can find that door and once again make a positive difference in people's lives.

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