One Less

Day 464.

No idea of month or date as I write.

In truth, I would have to look the date up to know it.

This time last year we were filled with emotions from Billy Bob Thornton accepting a Golden Globe in Luke’s name.

We were not watching that night but tonight we watched.

Many films we’ve seen.

Many great films we look forward to.

No mention of Luke.

I had been doing ok.

I’ve taken on some ‘real-world’ tasks, functioning since my one month Christmas trip to my family - Luke too. 

I’m filling in forms, prelims to US citizenship and I’m hit with step one.

‘Fill in the names of your children'.

And I realize, Luke will be omitted. 

And there will be one less application to fill in.

It hurts me again that he is gone.

Filling in the form - the days I’ve been out of the US, I track back through the dates.

That was Luke’s London memorial.

That was the trip I made to see him on Pan.

As I leaf through my past diaries, I see the day he left for Pan.

The date he left and fell from sobriety.

A long held sobriety filled with hope and off to a career that would be great, but ultimately I see it was the beginning of his death.

I can’t get to the calenders before that. Adam is in bed with a migraine, those books are in our bedroom.

I want to see the date he took the ER prescribed Percocet, that broke his brain, that in his own words “switched his heat-seekers on again.”

I see the dates I was away, the dates I broke my back so I couldn’t visit him in England whilst filming. He was without my support, without what he called my “evil eye”.

I’ve been ok. Yes, I said it again, so maybe I am trying to convince myself.

I’ve reached out to Marlon’s mum - alone in her struggle. Uncounseled.

Marlon is in jail.

His girlfriend is pregnant.

Nothing is his fault according to his Mum.

It’s clear to me that drugs cause further bad decisions.

I visited a homeless youth drop in center - it’s a place of hope. I can volunteer there and I will.

Luke and I, a degree away in both those matters.

I’m glad Luke’s not here to fall further as Marlon has and those lovely homeless kids are.

I can deal with that.

But to be filling in these forms I feel the ‘deadness' of death. The concept so intangible that Luke is actually gone. 

The PTSD kicks in when I have to deal with the real life matters, the official shit of the loss of him.

Over a year on and it comes back to me as a jolt, as a shock felt for the first time.

Grief group is the business of remembering him. 

The real job will be the business of accepting that he is gone. 

But I feel relief that I am no longer dealing with the crap that goes with having a child in active addiction.

But then again, just as a turn of fate took him to his death, a turn taking him back to his recovery is equally plausible.

‘I don’t mind the despair; It’s the hope that kills me.'

It’s been killing me for years.

There’s so much emotion.

I can’t get to grips with it.