Yesterday wasnae as magical as the fragile rhythm we had established in the early weeks of the custody shuffle, but it was the smoothest we have felt since the tragedy a bit more than a month ago. A point of discipline we established before the tragedy was Big Bro's Play Station IV. His teacher rates daily school behavior on a color scale. "Purple" is the highest rating. He needs five purples in a row to gain access to his game controllers. He hasnae had a controller since his parents died. The conflict being that video games were virtually his only bond with his mother. Even in motherhood, she seldom interacted outside the box, to the point of my worrying if her on-line communities have been notified of her passing. On-line was the only community she had. Are we depriving Big Bro of his only link to her by taking away his play station? On many levels, that debate feels like debating whether a child orphaned by the meth epidemic should be given a meth pipe to maintain parental bonds.
Leaving that debate to the side for now, Big Bro started this week with a "Purple" and celebrated with more "legcercize" on his bicycle after school yesterday evening while Big Sis was at dance class. She loves her dance class. We have completed our part of the process for getting her and Lil Sis signed up for daycare, complete with a middle finger salute to the other grandfather's political opposition to child immunizations. Tisnae a political placard I would have picked up on my own and I hate touting it, but it is done by legal mandate and the process is now perking through the CPS bureauracracy. We see what grows. For sure, Big Sis desperately wants a school of her own.
Warren Zevon's song, Keep Me In Your Heart, is still perking through the music theory end of my music therapy. As I learn the song, I seem to feel my son's spirit gaining freer access to my own. Seems. . . For now, I am letting that mystery be while I deal with the flesh and blood mysteries of moving on from the heart-wrenching loss. I miss you, my gentle son.