So much power in a single phrase, bringing up memories that had been pushed well into the caverns. Within seconds the same emotions that had so intensely gripped me years ago were holding me again. The memories, the fear, the pain was never tucked anywhere. As if they had been stalking me all this time from the shadows. The thought of my son being back on the operating table. It’s a weird thing to think about, the idea of the non-invasive brain surgery. To the outside world I’m sure the look on my face was that of a man who had seen a ghost. In many ways I did, finding myself staring down the pain of years past. All I can do now is wait, nothing is determined maybe this is all for naught.

The lust for control and predictability in life force the death of the beauty that is life’s mystery. Ones goal should never be to manage life to remove risk and only color between the lines. Managing life is like presenting flowers in black and white to the love of your life. To be managed is to be marginalized and to marginalized is to be devalued and to be devalued is the heartbreak we all share.

The mysteries happen around us, at a rate that we cannot fathom. The mind cannot make sense of the serendipitous moments that overtake us. The myth that something that beautiful and pristine can be managed is foolish at best.

Only the fool believes that life can be controlled, that they determine the manuscript that life will read from.

I am brokenness, I am the dust of a dream long gone. Nothing more then a mosaic of scars and wounds. Pain seeping through and dripping to the waiting earth below.

Like a ghost I feel life go through me, never able to grasp what is real. Seeking to know the joy of smiles surrounding me I am only left with the hallowed darkness within.

The seams are failing as the seething despair pushes against the confines of the flimsy walls. Brittle imagery dances about moments from a splintering demise. The darkness within relishes in the broken pieces as they flutter to the ground. The porcelain dust mixes with my tears on the cold lifeless ground

As the days tick by and the calendar pages flip. Max will be 5 soon, we are now 4 years removed from that fateful September. The September in ways feels so distant but the scars still as fresh as that first day. I still look at the MRI regularly. I look at the same picture I was shown. Somedays my eyes fill with tears, and others I find myself reflecting on the uncharted path.

Lately I’ve found myself watching my son growing older. The things he likes have been changing, the way he wants to spend time with me has been changing. It’s not that I’m surprised of such changes, but when you are faced with conditions and ailments that mask some of the changes in front of you it’s easy to miss the subtle things. As he has continued to find his voice both audible and communicating through his own signs he continues to exceed everything they said he would do.

4 years have passed, years filled with the support of amazing people in our families lives. Amazing people in my personal life, I could never repay all of the people that have been there for me in one way or another. In fact it would be impossible to even know where to begin, but I will never forget. People still ask, they wonder about how Max is doing. I cherish those individuals who are still by my side.

Max continues to grow, and in many ways so do I. I grow in the ways I view the years, in how I view the journey. The scars on my heart and on my soul have not changed, but I embrace the scars and I look optimistically toward the change and journey ahead.

Sb

It seems like its been so long since I felt connected. That was the internal commentary I had. The feeling of connectedness is referring to the deep cutting emotional pain and joy that I’ve experienced over the years. The moments when I’ve been emotionally broken, when tears have rolled off my cheeks. No matter how much time had passed I felt connected to the moments that changed me. But where did it go? The other question I can’t help but ask is if this change a good thing? I don’t want to lose the raw purity of those emotions. I don’t want to become disconnected. I fear I have become calloused.

This is uncharted water. This lack of intensity surrounding Max. Was it the darkness of the valley that heightened my senses and made me ultra aware of even the most finite emotional changes. Fight or flight, when a man stands toe to toe for so long what does that man become in the absence of an adversary. What brings him alive, what demands the best of him? I don’t know if this is a good or bad place I just know its a different place.

I walked into the room and leaned down, placing my cheek against Maxs cheek. I Softly said to Max ‘when I hear you laugh like that I know you are my son.’

His gaze shifted towards me, his smile peaked just a bit higher. Max didn’t reply and I didn’t add any more words. That was all that needed to be said.

Scott