Pi

This is the most difficult thing I have ever written in my life. The symbol above is of Pi. This is what my son Jesse had tattooed not that long ago. It held a great deal of meaning for him on a number of levels.

I will not be writing posts for some time, I have no idea how long. I send my apologies to those of you reading this who have expectations of posts. I fail you and for that I am sorry.
Last night I received a phone call from my daughter in Australia to tell me that my son had died. My brilliant, beautiful son is gone from this world. I will fly to Australia this week so my children and I may bury him with love. Chestnut Rau has written a loving tribute here which breaks my heart to read, but I read it over and over.

My mind is bubbling over with images of my son’s life: a series of frozen moments of time that refuse to stay buried, churned up to the surface by the sharpened knife of grief as it twists in my heart.

infinity

Below is a favourite piece of music, from a movie that we watched over and over so much when Jesse was a child that we wore out the video tape. The still photos are irrelevent, the music is not.