I walked out the door to the parking lot and a deer was there, walking around between the creek and the cars. A beautiful doe. I've never seen one there before in the 3 years I've been working there. It was such a nice hello, such a quick response to my question, when I didn't expect an answer.
When our baby first died, we would hike and hike and hike in Annadel. Doing our best, one step at a time, comforted by the evening sun over the grasses and we would almost always see a stag, which is very unusual. We saw 16 of them in a month or two, never failing, every time we went out. And we would talk to him, our son, through these deer. We knew it was him, in some way, these mystical creatures. We would know where to go, sometimes we would find them, hear some little sound and follow it and find him, or he would find us, walking through brush and surprising us.
We don't hike as much now, not nearly. We are back in the busyness of life, and we don' t have time every day, we don't make the space, life has crowded back in. It's easier in some ways to be busy, but it can be numbing too, and that's uncomfortable. We cry at night, and it can be hard on each other after a long day to have the other so down, but we understand, it's s lower-level relentless heartache. A loss that is always felt, but not so poignantly as before. In some ways it's hard to let go of that, to let it be foggy and not sharp. This is how it goes, though.
So my baby boy, my Otto, thanks for showing that you are right here, that even when we are down in the hurt of your death and hurts that started long before that, you are clear. You are beyond. You are like a deer in the city, just beyond the trees by the creek, hidden but there and full of spirit.
Our yard is full of blooming roses and poppies and pansies, the color is cheerful, so helpful. Spring is beautiful.
I love you.
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