Actions

I get an email today that lets me know a friend of Colby's is in rehab. Colby passing was the deciding factor, and I am so pleased that Colby had some small part in his friend getting help. I think good thoughts and wishes for the friend. This is the third person I know of who has gotten help for mental health or addiction issues directly due to Colby.

Later today, when I am driving, I get stuck behind a very slow Jeep pulling a small flatbed trailer. It is raining and the Jeep is having some trouble managing the flatbed. There is back and forth sway and the empty trailer also bounces up and down. I am impatient as we are going almost 20 miles an hour below the speed limit. I come to my turnoff and half a mile later I come across an accident that has just happened. If not for the slow Jeep, I could have been part of the wreck.

The email and accident make me think that every action we take, every thing that we do affects someone else. Even something as small as waiting for one car to pass before we pull onto the road can make a difference. Colby would have liked this train of thought. He was always aware that everyone, everything, is connected, often in ways we do not understand. Are maybe not supposed to understand.

To an extent, we can choose many of these actions. We can choose a smile or a frown. To open a door for someone, or to ignore them. We each have the ability to affect others in a positive way . . . or not. The choice is ours, yours and mine. I am excited to think of the many ways these three people who are currently turning their lives around will touch others in the future. And that none of it would have any possibility of happening if it were not for Colby brings a silver lining to this very sad time.

Action, July 27, 2009, 7:31 a.m.

I didn't sleep much last night, just dozed for an hour or so. My hands and legs were shaking and my was heart thumping, delayed reaction to the shock I think. I got dizzy lying there listening to my heart thump so I lay on the floor, with my feet and legs propped up on the bed. Better.

I am numb. I can't eat, think or feel. Colby had been living on the streets these past six months or so and several of Colby's friends dropped things of his off at the house last night. Things he had left in their cars, or stowed under a bush near a freeway exit. It is easy to see that they are as devastated as I am. It's good to talk with them. It helps. I should begin going through his things but I can't summon the energy. If I did, I think it would bring me comfort. Maybe later.

The cat, Bailey, and dog, Abby, know something is up. Abby barks at the slightest sound and Bailey is uncharacteristically cranky. I wish I could tell them about Colby, but maybe they already know. Animals are so much more intuitive than we are.

Action. I need a plan. I am a list maker so I start a list. The two "must do" things for my work as an author and editor, the many things I must do to start the cremation process for my son. The structure of the list helps me get going. I have a speaking engagement this coming weekend. I need to make a decision. Should I go? Can I give a quality presentation in the state I'm in? Not today, but maybe by the weekend. Colby would want me to go. I'll put that decision off until tomorrow. Maybe if I get some sleep tonight.

So it's almost 8:00 a.m. I got through the night and today I start my new life, a life without my son in my presence, but always in my heart.