It began as the worst day of my life so far. The fog of shock and lead blanket of unimaginable grief had reached massive weight after many hours without rest. The dread of what lay ahead looked impenetrable.  Somehow we got packed and to the airport without forgetting anything vital. I credit those friends who came and acted on my brain and body’s behalf. Baggage check, security, flight delay, queuing up, baggage claim, car rental …all such familiar and automatic experiences seemed unnatural.  “Have a great flight”, “Welcome to Denver!” “What brings you toBoulder?” Phrases that hit like a punch in the stomach.

Driving northwest to Boulder in the gray of twilight and clouds felt like being marched to the executioner. How can I arrive in the town where somewhere, my beautiful boy’s body lies cold and alone?  Breathe. A reminder in the form of a bracelet pressed thoughtfully into my hand on Friday mid-day. Courage. Strength. Forgiveness. Protection.  Attributes contained in the polished stones in my pockets, magically gifted to me by a lifelong friendFriday night.

We arrived at the Zen cottage carefully selected for us by friends who rushed in on Friday morning.  John had been gone less than 24 hours, and there was work to do, arrangements to be made, and it was done.  They could not have picked a more perfect spot. Boulder’s character, charm and beauty surround us.  We walked a few blocks to the bustle of a college town on Saturday night.  Perfect temperature, sweet smelling air.  I see what John loved.

Shelby picked one of John’s favorite restaurants for dinner. Beautiful, delicious, innovative, lively. A pillar that is a fish tank full of graceful and prehistoric jellyfish.  Sushi that is art and flavor blended.  Music that is soothing, lively, original and innovative.  A bartender’s hug with words that comfort. “He made me feel special” “He treated me like an old friend” “He was one of a kind” “We planned to play football together this Fall” “Here. Have a Serrono Splash, it was John’s favorite!!”  I remember that John had told me about it on his last visit. Blended, green, a basil leaf floating on top and a spicy kick with every sip. I  taste what John loved.

Dropping Shelby and Matt off at a house full of John’s gathered Miramonte friends merged with Boulder friends.  A hug from a former Matator teammate.  The exalted wiggled enthusiasm from Ally the dog. Kisses from the doggie who he loved beyond measure. I feel what John loved.

Return to the cottage. Dripping with unimagined exhaustion. Eyes burning, aching. Depleted of fluid. Collapse into a downy bed and cool smooth sheets, I am wrapped in a natural sleep undisturbed by dreams or nightmares.

The day ended far better than I ever could have hoped. I am with my boy.