Saturday, June 15th, 2013
2 years, 6 months.
This week after uploading the most recent content from my digital camera to my flash drive, then editing those files, then deleting all those pictures and videos on the camera immediately afterwards, I experienced a dose of panic and anxiety I haven’t known since maybe 7th grade.
I could not find the video of you riding your fire truck you made of pillows!
Mommy and I were so proud of your performance, yet it was nowhere to be found.
How would I tell Mommy what I did? Should I just not bring it up until she asked about it?
I always feared this happening; deleting one of your pictures or videos before actually saving it.
After searching for 20 minutes in a state of constricted breathing and a gnarly adrenaline rush, I realized that the thumbnail for the video was not the one I was looking for.
In other words, I had not deleted your prized fire fighter performance. And of course, now it’s safely saved and featured on YouTube.
I don’t know, maybe that video clip isn’t really all that funny or cute to the whole world, but to Mommy and me, it’s priceless.
To think had I actually deleted that file, the very best thing I could have done was try to get you to re-create what you did in the video that day, but I could never actually access the original again.
Subconsciously, my mind started to process the thought of actually losing you; not simply just that video of you.
My subconscious, I’m convinced, is much more aware of deep emotional hurt and sadness than the conscious part of my brain. The door of that room inside my head was unlocked and I began to catch a glimpse of hell.
I began feeling this heaviness and emptiness that I couldn’t even begin to understand.
In that moment, I felt so alone and lost and exiled.
It felt like I lost you.
I never want to feel that way again.
Add a Comment