It is the writer's privilege to help man endure by lifting his heart.
He sat at the piano tonight and it hit me; the quiet is going to be unbearably loud.
Tonight, he will sleep in a bed about 25 feet from where I sit now. Tomorrow, he won't.
And here we go again, launching another kid into his college adventure. We've done it twice before and while the details and logistics seem to get easier, I can't say the same about the emotions. They're different this time, but still raw and overwhelming.
There is more to be said about all this, but I'm tired. We spent our last hours here tonight making grilled cheese and tomato soup at 11:00 p.m., followed by stories, laughter, and music. Those three things give a pretty good description of what life has been like with Harrison the past 18 years.
There will still be plenty of moments filled with those things in the years to come and they will be moments to savor. And oh how I will. Because there will be so, so many quiet moments in between.