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Day 38 without Ambrose.

Today, I am okay.Today I am in good spirits. I woke up to a bit of a plot twist, but I say, “Hey, challenge accepted, Lord.” I’ll be at Whitmore Lanes today from noon until seven or so. I am putting the bad feelings into a box. I am setting it down on a sturdy table. Then I am walking away from it for a couple of days. I will have the rest of my life to mourn my son.

There will not be discussions regarding my son.. No one may touch me above my wrist. I’m a good listener. I don’t need to be a good talker.

We want the heck out of here. We don’t want to leave our church.  We want to live a life far away from all of this horror show. At the same time, I don’t want to leave Ambrose’s ghost behind. His headstone will be here. His tomb is laid out perfectly downstairs. Sometimes, I pretend he is sleeping, and that I will see him later when he gets up. After a while, I just lean my head against the door and cry. That might not be the best thing.

So what.

I know who killed my son. Now, we wait for justice to either prevail, or trip blindly.

I made it through that first day back at the Lanes, with a little help from my friends. I will do it again today, too. I am truly blessed to have that trampoline beneath me. I can’t even begin to express their significance.

That’s what I have left. I am grateful for it all.