Missing Piece

In May 2012, our large rear projection TV had burned out and was located in our upstairs room. Rather than try to delicately move a broken TV down a curved staircase, I decided to take the easy route. I used my reciprocating saw to cut the TV in half horizontally, so that we could move the two halves outside to be removed. Inside the TV was a high-quality spotless mirror that I pulled out before cutting.

Alisha and I did a fun experiment in the back yard with that mirror. The reflection in the TV mirror wasn't like a normal mirror, it was a spot-on duplication because the mirror had no spots and no distortion. Alisha had me stand in the yard and point the mirror at an angle where she'd see a reflection of grass in the mirror. She took pictures with her cell phone and didn't modify them at all in photoshop. Here's what it looked like:

I'd like to use these pictures as a visual illustration of what it feels like for Roscoe to not be with us. It feels like a part of me is missing. It doesn't feel like a part of me has been severed, blown up, amputated, or burned off. It just feels like it's not there, and in its place is emptiness.

I don't expect that emptiness to ever go away. I will always be (and proudly identify myself as) "that guy who lost his 9 month old son". We will hopefully have other kids, but they won't fill the hole that Roscoe left. It's odd to think this way, because if we'd never had Roscoe then nothing would have been missing. However, he came into our lives and 9.5 months later he disappeared and took a part of us with him. We'll most certainly be happy, laugh often, and play frequently, so don't think this means we'll go into depression. It just means that we won't get that part of ourselves back until we're reunited with him again. Until then, we'll feel incomplete.