I’ve had this first blog in my head for weeks now. I knew pretty exactly how it was going to be. And then life happened, so you’re getting this blog entry instead. The one thing I do know is that I’ve got a lot of things rattling around in my head, so the original blog entry will show up at some point.
This weekend is important. It depends on how you count things, but it’s one of our first big anniversaries since Colin’s death. Last year, on December 2, I woke up and went to the hospital with my back killing me. By the end of that day, Colin was in the hospital and, in some ways, never really returned. I guess that makes Dec. 2 the real anniversary, but since it all happened on a Sunday, that makes this day kind of critical in my mind. I guess it doesn’t really matter. The point is, special dates will keep coming up and we’ll keep thinking about him.
But this weekend was also unexpected. I started Saturday wondering about the existence of ghosts. By the middle of the day, I was having one of the first crying jags I’ve had about his death – and this after a week of complaining to therapists that I’m being far too stoic about handling his death. By the evening I was drunk and telling some near complete stranger about Colin’s death at a party, because I’m a real upper these days.
Now, I don’t know if I believe in ghosts. I haven’t really thought about them much since I went on a tear through all the ghost stories in our school library when I was about 10. The highlight of that reading adventure was the chapter on “erotic entities.” I didn’t know what the word “erotic” meant at that point and, boy, did I get an education. What I do know is that all our Lego alarm clocks went off Saturday morning (Emma says hers didn’t, but I heard two separate alarms from the kids’ room).
We got the clocks around the time of one of our big Legoland tricks. I have Superman, Noah has Batman and Emma has Batgirl. About a year ago, Colin became extremely interested in these clocks, carrying them around and arranging them for hours on end. I thought it was cute. I remember Noah being annoyed that his brother kept wandering off with his clock. I associate the clocks with Colin.
The thing is, the alarms shouldn’t have gone off Saturday morning. I don’t remember setting mine. There was no reason for me to do so. Ditto the kids. There’s dozens of logical explanations for why they could have gone off. I get it. I still choose to focus on the fact that I went into this weekend apprehensive about his memory and then, to start the weekend off, some of his favorite toys made themselves known. Like I said, I get the rational reasons. I prefer the version where a little Colin ghost came and reminded us about him.
Then again, it’s not like we have troubles remembering him. You can’t escape him in the house, in our life. Later Saturday afternoon, we went to a bazaar at the school. One of the things about my life right now is how boring it is on some level. Christina had a stand to man. Emma and Noah each took 10 euros and disappeared to the sales. And there I was alone. My family didn’t need me actively. Normally, until a year ago, my job right then would have been to watch Colin while everyone else ran around.
Now I don’t have that job. It hit me pretty hard. It isolates you. There were any of a number of friends and acquaintances at the school right then, but the last thing I wanted was to bring anyone down with my problems, so that’s me, sobbing alone behind the school, because there were fewer people there right then.
And then I did the only thing that made sense: Tracked Noah down and followed him around until he asked me to leave. Then I went and stalked my wife while she was trying to work. And then it came my turn to man the bratwurst stand, but they had already sold out (which was kind of my plan when I took the last shift at the stand), so we went home.
And then came the party, and then came too much beer. I don’t even remember what the poor guy said to me at the party, I just remember turning to him and saying “Look, my son died two months ago,” which is about the best conversation killer there is out there. What have we learned? I keep my problems from my friends, but drunkenly tell my friends’ friends about what’s going on if given the opportunity. This is why I’m in therapy, I guess.
I don’t know how often I’ll be keeping this blog. I don’t know if there’s ever going to be a point to what I’m writing, but here we are. Thanks for reading.