No air

Today in the kitchen I picked up a paring knife. I bought it with Lev, who thought it was awesomely sharp and cool. Often when I used the knife he would make some comment like "Aren't you glad we go that?". Now when I pick it up, there is just silence. The urge to hear his voice, to be in his presence again, was almost overwhelming. Yet there was no way to satisfy that urge, there was nothing at all I could do about it. This happens more and more nowadays, as my understanding of "never" deepens. It reminds me of being in a room without air. You have such a powerful urge to take a breath, but you cannot. And the more you try the more panicked you become. So you give in, and realize that there is no point of breathing, that you need to accept your fate. And thus it is with missing Lev: I just need to accept that he will never be back, and that I will never get to spend another moment with my beautiful son again. It hurts like hell, but with this acceptance comes a type of peace that allows me to carry on to another day.