I have said before that time doesn't heal, but maybe places do. Being away for almost three weeks unexpectedly gave me a respite from waking up in pain. It's not that I was happy, but the pain I felt was mostly dulled. Maybe because I had only happy memories of my son there as a child. Maybe I didn't feel his absence, because he hadn't been there in years anyway. I don't know. But, as I came back I was acutely aware that there is no reason for me to come back here, no one to come back to.
I also went to a place where I thought I could scatter his ashes. He had talked of the mystery of our mountains and how he felt tied to that land. It is a beautiful and spiritual place, with seven lakes at the summit of a mountain, where people gather in mid-summer to dance. The top two lakes, which I couldn't reach, because the weather turned to rain and fog are named the Eye and the Tear. The Tear is the highest one. I thought I would lay him down there, and I would go into the Eye one day. But, I don't know now. He didn't seem to belong there, in calm waters. It is the sea that must take him, because it rages and covers the world. I will go back to the place he liked, the one that claimed him and see if he belongs there.