Am I devastated because I fear Alex is in pain?
If so, he’s not in pain. So stop.
Am I devastated for myself? Because I want him here with me, instead of where he should be now?
I can’t let this be about me. So stop.
Am I devastated because I want to save him but don’t know how?
That’s useless as well. He moved away and doesn’t need me now. Out of town, out of state, out of
the country, and off the planet. He’s not waiting for me to save him.
Is it that simple? That the pain we feel when we lose a loved one is self-inflicted only?
Can we find peace in remembering just how much our grief is mostly about ourselves?
Alex isn’t calling me to save him.
There is no swimmer waving his hands out beyond the breakers.
There’s no child lost atop a mountain ridge, looking down, calling to me, trembling.
To the contrary.
If Alex is atop a mountain ridge, he’s looking up. And taking pictures.