Saturday, February 27, 2016

#SOL16: Heartbreaking Commonplace

Rob and Devon asleep at the hospital. (Feb. 2016) 
"I know that the thing I want is exactly the thing I can never get. The old life, the jokes, the drinks, the arguments, the lovemaking, the tiny, heartbreaking commonplace" (C.S.Lewis, A Grief Observed, p. 25).
Rob and Devon (1999)

It isn't the big things that trip me up, but rather the millions and millions of small, commonplace artifacts that trigger wave after wave of loss. Even now the loss is crippling and the one soothing grace is I can still touch him, talk to him, revel in the brief, fleeting moments when he is somewhat present.

The other day I watched as my son sat cross-legged in a chair next to his father's hospital bed and fell asleep resting on Rob's left shoulder. He slept like that for a couple of hours.

When I watch Dev with his dad, he always rubs one of his shoulders. The other day I asked him why and at first he said he didn't know. A while later he told me that it's because he's still warm there.

"His arms and hands are so cold."

There are millions and millions of stories we have made together. We are making stories now--ones Devon and I will carry with us to remember Rob.


  1. Your posts are a gift to all of us who read them, but far and away the greatest of gifts to your son.

    1. I hadn't even thought of that. Thanks Nancy.