Flashbacks - Part Two

Colin,

I was sitting in church yesterday in the same pew in which we usually sit and one of those lovely little flashback videos decided to roll camera in my brain. This time, it was the day of the funeral mass. I got to watch myself and Ellen as a spectator and felt as sad as I have in a long time. I saw the pain in Ellen's face as Father spoke (directly to us quite often). I saw the pain and blankness of my expressions as I tried to hold it together and be strong for her and Ava. I saw all of the people behind us as nothing more than a blur that only emphasized us sitting there in that surreal moment of listening to a funeral service for our infant son. It really was like watching a video as clear in my mind as the day it happened…maybe even more clear.

Next were all the handshakes, hugs, and kisses before everyone went downstairs to socialize and eat. I clearly remembered every conversation I had, almost word for word. One in particular I shared with another Dad finally helped my hands stop shaking (they had been all day until that point). Then the memory of the silence once everyone had gone home and it was just Ellen, Ava, and me. That sinking feeling of understanding and processing the reality of you being dead setting in and the darkness of the days and weeks to follow. Those memories give me chills every time, and I wish that I could turn off the flashbacks…or at least control when they occur.

The reason I am sharing this one in particular is that it happens almost every Sunday at the exact same moment of the mass. I have been trying to figure out why, but so far to no avail. When I do understand why this particular flashback occurs at the same moment of the mass and only then, I will let you know, or maybe you will let me know. Either way, I just wanted to let you know that even though flashbacks are often very painful, at least they somehow still connect me to you and I can live with that type of pain.

I love you!
Daddy