This morning has been terrible. Simply, indescribably awful. I woke up reliving his last hours, and felt to the core of my being that I had betrayed the strongest love and greatest need I've ever experienced. My "daemon" (for those of you who get the reference) my baby. Like our long beautiful sacred story was eradicated in a few hours, by me, who was never worthy of this Gift in the first place.
The above was written at 6:30 and now it is almost 9, I have moved on to a different manifestation of this misery. For some it will be a little mystical, for others it will resonate, but this journey is mine and this is what I feel, experience, suffer every moment as I try to walk through the loss, the guilt, the self reproach.
I feel, at times I am experiencing his memories. Things like, our drives back and forth to the store all the months Alex was gone - I'd sing goofy songs to him, and when we were on the way home I'd exclaim "LOOK where we live, Rabbit!" and he'd start looking wildly about as if that statement of mine meant there were deer in a field, a dog strolling by, or something else of equal interest. Not Mom just exclaiming how elated she was to live in the place did. Every time this played out...and I remember it as the driver, the human, looking over the fields on Shouldice Rd, beholding the funny adorable predictable Danny-behaviour...that's how I remember it.
Until he died, that is - now I have these flashes as though I am recalling it all through him. Strange, mystical, bizarre as that will sound, and to some, sure evidence of my PTSD and probably slide into psychosis. I feel like I'm remembering bits of his life...through his eyes.
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