A brushing sound, some feet on the floor and the creak of the door. I woke up just in time to see my son quietly leaving the room, this morning, no doubt on his way to make breakfast. Yes, he’s 10 and yes he can still sleep in my room whenever he wants. That’s beside the point of this post. My son is an early riser and always has been. There are mornings when he wakes up at 3 or 4 am and feels accomplished because of it.
- D. Roddy, U.S. Geological Survey / Foter / Public domain
I felt my lips curl into a sleepy smile at the thought that accompanied this routine morning scene. This is one of his daddy’s behaviors. His father died, in 2011, when he was just 8 years old. It definitely left a massive impact crater on my world. A crater so wide and so deep that it’s impossible to see the ends, or even imagine that there is an end to it. Except when I am witness to scenes like this. These little glimpses of their beloved father surfacing in his children. These are moments that take my breath away and leave me feeling like maybe that void of nothingness isn’t just a supermassive black hole that will devour everything that moves around it. There is something that can survive that harsh environment, supporting love and life.
Someday, I imagine, the crater will be full of these treasures. There will always be evidence of the impact & crater, though it may become difficult to imagine the consequential mass extinction event ever took place. I can’t imagine that happening from a heartfelt perspective. My heart, unreasonable and reeling from the impact, sometimes desires the crater to stand the test
of time as a permanent monument of love, resolute in unchanging nothingness. I imagine the healing only as a result of knowledge about scientific observations on this planet and viewing my life & experiences as minuscule pieces of a huge fractal pattern.
