Knee deep in the ocean. Watching the waves come at us. Some of them we see coming, some completely blindside us. Either way, there’s no getting out of the way. No preparing. No dodging the inevitable.
The list of what’s brought on these waves seems completely random.
Our moms meeting our beautiful little boy in the hospital and getting the chance to say goodbye. Wave. Calling my brother and sister to tell them that their little nephew isn’t coming home with us. Wave. Kissing Simon’s perfect little nose and saying goodbye. Wave. Walking into the mortuary and picking out an urn for our son we never got the chance to meet. Wave. These I saw coming, but that didn’t stop them from pummeling us.
Then there are the other waves. I threw a ball to Nolan and he was so proud when he caught it. Wave. (Nolan and Simon will never play catch in the front yard like my brother and I did.) Jimmy Fallon’s damn “Dada” book (no I can’t read that one anymore.) Wave. I didn’t see either of those waves coming, nor the thousands of others that have come at us.
The ocean stretches on forever. And ever. Always and always. And there is no end in sight. The only hope is that the waves are someday further and further apart, and maybe not quite so devastating. But they won’t end.