November 19, 2020
I think of him every day. A friend at support group says that he used to think this kind of statement couldn’t be true. Now, he thinks of his son every day.
It’s true, I think of Elliot every day. Did I do this before? I think I did, but my thoughts were pedestrian. How is he eating? Are his classes going well? Does he need a new winter coat? Has he met a girl? Will he come to St. Louis for Thanksgiving with us? Why is he such a jerk when he disagrees with people?
I think of the other children every day too, but they are here—thinking of Elliot gets engraved into my memory because there is a pain every time I do it. My thoughts of the other kids are usually like movements of my body. They happen effortlessly like tying shoes or signing my name. Often, I don’t pause and notice them because they serve a purpose. But when I have tendinitis in my elbow, I wince when I move my arm or hold on to something. I wince when I think of Elliot. It is the same.
Gone are the pedestrian thoughts. God I wish I could have some of those again.
