Baseball

Rough night. No sleep. The physical ache of missing Colby is overwhelming. It happens this way sometimes. The all consuming, physical emptiness, the deep-seated sadness that takes over everything. I turn to my online support group and one exercise says to list happy thoughts. This is hard. I am not in a happy place. But I try.

The first one that comes to mind is at a Minnesota Twins baseball game when Colby was four. This is probably because against all odds the Twins won their division last night and have been on my mind. But at this game, almost 20 years ago, Colby, my mom and I sat above the third base dugout. The Twins were playing the Boston Red Sox and Colby already knew all the players on the Twin's team. Kirby Puckett and Dan Gladden were his favorites. At four, Colby was no stranger to baseball. My Mom had him swinging a bat when he was a toddler just barely able to stand. At four, Colby kept better track of the strikes and balls, of the innings and outs, than I did. He was especially pleased when the Twins won 4-0. Four runs, one to celebrate each of his years.

My mind runs to another baseball team, another championship. The second year Colby was in t-ball they won every game. Every single game. On the 4th of July the team rode in the parade holding their trophies and Indian danced to Lee Greenwood's "God Bless the USA." What a great team that was. Great parents, and great kids.

Each of those memories triggers another, Colby playing the Lone Ranger, attending River Camp at what was then the Cumberland Science Museum, the summer he went to YMCA Camp. Those were truly happy times for him . . . and for me. It seems impossible to fathom that there will be happy times again. Surely there must be, but right now, I can't see how. This is where trust and faith come in. This is where I have to believe. I do. I will. But right now, this morning, I allow myself the luxury of crawling back into bed. It will be easier to get through this darkness if I am not so tired, so emotionally drained. So I let myself recharge with the intended thought that this afternoon will be better. It will. It has to be.