In my heart, I still have two children - here with me.
I live in my heart for hours at a time.
In my home, only one child walks through the front door, his backpack slung over his left shoulder. His voice draws into this world as he tells me about a class or runs a campaign idea by me. Sometimes, I have to say, "Wait, start over." because the words come from a different world and only a few break through. If I can't catch up using context clues, I have to just cry uncle and focus. It's like being awakened from a deep sleep in the middle of the day. You are not sure if it is morning or night, where you are or what happened that caused you to loose your connection with relative time and space.
Once confidently present, I am alive and the space I find myself with him is the most natural place in the whole world.
My mind still protects me.
I can be in my home and see Taylor's picture, and she is just at school. Or sometimes, she is just a dream, sweetly remote.
I know when my mind veils reality.
Tomorrow, the two worlds will collide. I will stand in this world, a small, cold courtroom full of strange procedures and strange people and talk about the world we knew before - a world in which we knew gratitude for the blessings of two incredible children and for us - a perfect family.
I have read, written, reread and rewritten the words I will say; they fall tremendously short of the blessing of family and the impact of Taylor Renee's life.