Sorry, I can’t post today. Willie’s obituary was in the paper, and I can’t seem to stop crying. He was only 15. (He looked older when I saw him last.)
I know there’s a story in this. That morbid, bizarre part of my brain wants to write a story from Willie’s point of view, now that he’s on the other side and fully abled, the way he was supposed to be. (I read “Angel Unaware” by Dale Evans when I was a kid and it really clicked with me. The Natalie Merchant song, “Wonder”, also inspires me that same way. I used to sing it to Alex before he was born, back before I knew anything about autism, let alone believed I might experience its effects.) If anything, I’ll write what I can, if only to make myself feel better. Nobody needs to read it.
I bet he’s smiling.