Empty Space

Matt and I attended opening day for the Nationals last week. Nats Park has been such a special place for our family over the years, but especially since Waverly died. We bought Sunday season tickets and would spend our Sunday afternoons together cheering on our home team. Oliver used to love to watch the game, but as he declined I think the experience was much more for Matt and I. It provided a chance for us to do a typical family activity. Oliver wore his custom personalized jersey, he had hats for different weather, and even a blanket for chilly spring/fall games. We never attended a game without buying blue cotton candy. Even when he was totally fed via his g-tube, I would still give him small tastes and allow it to melt on his tongue. Simple pleasures.

We had standing room only tickets for the game last week. We were without a seat and it felt poetic. We were nomadic, wandering the stadium to try to find our place. And then we passed our old seats. Section 235 in the last row. Oliver's chair would sit where that plastic chair is, in the middle of Matt and I. It was surreal to see our place empty. It felt right. I bought blue cotton candy.

We are continually experiencing *firsts*. And in each first without sweet Oliver, I succumb to my grief. My eyes well up, I close down and I wish I could change reality. On Friday it will be four months since Oliver died. Four months.