The morning you died - March 17th, 2009, Mindi came around 5:15 am. We went to sleep around 6:00 am. As I was lying there with Mindi by my side instead of you, I asked her if she remembered that feeling you get when you have been on a boat all day - that feeling like you are still on the boat even hours after you get off the boat. I laid on my side - I could feel your heart beat. I could feel your breathing. I could feel myself on your chest in the crook of your arm listening to you and breathing you in, moving slightly with the rhythm of each breath. I had laid like that with you sporadically that entire day while your body shut down. I had laid like that with you for years. That was my spot. I told Mindi about the feeling - like when you get off a boat and still feel like you are on a boat. "I feel like I am still laying on his chest," I said, "and I hope that feeling never goes away."
Brian, it is already going away. I don't want my sea legs yet.
I miss you, Brian. I love you.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009