The snow is falling, or what could be loosely described as snow. Maybe dust, white powder dust would be more appropriate, almost like large flakes of flour. The kind of dust that you barely glimpse, but can see when the sunshine catches them as it’s rays filters through the window. This same white powder fell on the day Shawn died, a day I’d not soon want to re-live. An ethereal day.
I wrote this as I sat waiting for my appt with Gloria, my counselor, but she approached me soon after and said “Come on in Dwayne, how are you doing?” It’s funny, the thought of Shawn, or his passing, wasn’t forefront on my mind as she asked me that question, but was only moments before. My thoughts of him come and go, depending on circumstances and mood.
It’s coming up on 11 years since his untimely death, January 18th of 2000 to be exact. The closer we get to that date, or his birthday in October, the more his life (and death) surface in our minds. Often it brings back some guilt on my part, none that I’ve mentioned to Gloria though, and even though I can rationalize my way through it the nagging thoughts of “only if” are still there and still pull at my heart. Only if, 2 isolated words that when put together have more power over us than so many others. Only if.