suspension

my son jake has been living in a suspended state his entire life. a state of latency, a place of truly being neither here nor there.
he continues this today, though he seems to have moved slightly further along the continuum toward not being here. just slightly, though.

he's never had a body that worked like most of ours do. he's never been able to control his muscles: they do what they want. his mind ~ we don't know.
so he's always lived in this inner world, so very different from the one the majority of us inhabit.
he lets us know when he's upset or feeling pain, and he lets us know when he's happy. he has the best, huge and deep belly laugh: it shakes his entire body.
he laughs at jokes his brother tells him.
he laughs at the walls.
he laughs at the angels he sees, dancing around the room, high against the windows and ceiling.

jake has lived his entire life in an existence unlike anything I can really imagine. he cannot talk. he cannot tell us anything about his experience. he cannot move himself or label anything he sees.

and now he is moving closer to a new existence, one that none of us have any real knowledge of.
but I pull out my constant companion, faith, and know that jake will soon be released to share every bit of his depth and wisdom and love, to run and jump and play, to ride that special, custom bike they're putting together for him up there.

we will just hang in this suspension for a while longer, as it tilts, gradually, continually, toward his new equilibrium.