L: Loss In An Empty Chair

This month I am participating in the April 2012 Blogging From A-Z Challenge. I will be blogging every day this month with Sundays off (except for April 1) using a letter of the alphabet in order from A through Z. So, Basically, beginning with April 1, my topic will be themed on something with the letterA, then on April second another topic with the letter B as the theme, and so on until I finish on April thirtieth with the theme based on the letter Z.

     Today I am visiting with Domani while his mom is at work.  Domani is napping right now.  I am sitting on the sofa in the living room.   Across from the sofa is the big leather recliner that Joe spent nearly all of his time in the last months of his life.  At that time it faced the TV and he was never without the remote in his hand.  When I would come to help him with Domani, I was surprised to see that he would be watching Regis and Kelly.  After Regis he would switch to the John Stewart and Colbert Report shows.   During the commercials of those two shows he would flip to the Mets channel and watch replays of memorable games.  Even at his weakest, though, his attention would be on what Domani was doing.  Reminding me when it was his snack time or nap time. 
     The TV is mounted on the wall.  A digital frame with changing pictures sits on top of a credenza.  Flashes of photos of Joe jog flashes of my memories of Joe.
     Between the sofa and the recliner is a long padded leather bench.  Joe used that bench in many different ways.  It was a barrier to keep Domani safe and enclosed in Joe's inner circle.  He would push it up against the sofa to be used as a railing to protect Domani from falling off when napping.  At some point, it then became Joe's personal space.  A place to hold the Ensure, or Jello, the iced tea or water and finally rows of brown plastic medicine bottles.
     He fought so hard to stay in that chair, not wanting to give in to the hospital bed that awaited him in the other room.
     This post is written with tears and silent sobs.  This place is where I feel the loss of my son more deeply than any other.  My heart feels empty, just as his chair sits empty across from me.

[Anna's Diary entry to be included here later]

To see more A-Z posts click here.