I was looking for something in the top drawer of my sewing machine desk. The desk is old…was my mom’s…it is the kind that actually looks like a student desk, and the machine can be folded down inside it. Anyway…I was looking in the drawer and discovered that the box of safety pins had spilled. As I started picking them up it dawned on me that in a childless household I will be able to keep the drawer straight and neat. Or at least only have myself to blame if it is a mess. What will that be like? I don’t know…but a split second after that thought came the pain..horrible pain that is beyond description. It happens all too often, every time something reminds me of our youngest son. I know the cliches, that it feels like your heart is ripped from your chest….that your heart is heavy…and now I know the physical feeling that led to their creation. It feels as though a white hot lump of coal is in my chest. I have to fight to breathe as the tears poor down my face. It can happen anywhere…in WalMart…in every room of my house…as I drive through the streets of Palm Coast. The memories really do assault me, I imagine that it feels very much like a giant has grabbed me up in his fist, held me so tightly I am sure I will die…and then slammed me to the pavement. The giant is sadistic…because he lets me think I’ve escaped….only to suddenly grab me again, and again.