Visiting Ryan

 I scattered his ashes in a place we both loved. At least he loved it when he loved anything, before the joy slipped away and all that remained was the struggle to get through the day. It's a beautiful place in a part of the country I thought I would never leave again, until I did. I won't be here to visit him two weeks from now when he'll have been gone a year. So I'm here today instead. 

Low tide, quiet water, a gentle breeze, and, of course, the damp. The lapping of the waves is overtaken by the roar of war planes doing their maneuvers from the nearby base. Ryan would have loved the planes and hated their noise. You can't cover your ears and run away from them the way he used to do from the blender. 

For me they are a symbol of everything wrong in the world - violence, abusive power, greed, convoluted ideas of freedom that mistake the ability to harm for safety. They represent uncounted millions that could have been resourced for helping kids like mine and thousands of others more deserving of our problem-solving dollars than war will ever be. 

Those planes should not be in this quiet beautiful place. Ryan should be. 

Ryan should be here running the paths, skipping stones and petting dogs. Even if the jets would give way to the soothing sounds of nature, Ryan would still be gone and my heart would still be broken. 

Drafted Jan 31, 2023.