What Now?

Zayden, what now?

So, all your medical supplies, your gear, and even your little treasures are packed up and sitting out on the porch now. After stalling for what felt like forever, I finally got around to sorting your clothes, blankets, and those hilarious socks that always made me laugh. Your toys? They’re all neatly packed too. But honestly, I’m just not ready to let most of it go—especially your clothes. For now, they’re safely vacuum-sealed, tucked in a water-resistant container, and stashed away in the back of my closet. The living room feels so... huge now. Empty. Cold. I keep wondering—how do I bring back the warmth and happiness this space used to have?

Lately, I’ve been diving into this new AI class and using what I’ve learned to make videos from your photos. One of my favorites? It’s you sitting up, bouncing around, and literally leaping out of your crib like you’re on some kind of mission. Watching it gives me this tiny bit of peace, even if just for a moment.

Today, I’m starting to clear out the art room to get it ready for GG. Oh, how I wish you were still here to keep her company. You would’ve had her grinning from ear to ear, cracking up while you rolled and played. The house feels way too quiet without you.

On the bright side, I've made some headway with your legacy. Zayden’s Crusade Foundation Inc. is now officially recognized as a State of Florida Nonprofit Corporation. Pretty cool, right? The only thing left is the IRS 501(c)(3) application. I’m trying to stay busy, but honestly, it feels like I’m always waiting on someone else to give me the green light for the next step. That’s kind of why I signed up for the AI class through the Goodwill Foundation. And at the end of the month, I’m going to a couple of business seminars at the local college. Gotta keep things moving, you know?

Nights are still tough, though. I keep waking up thinking I hear one of your alarms going off. Was it you calling me through the baby monitor that’s not even plugged in anymore? Or maybe the sound of your little keyboard—the one grampa took to his van—like you were tapping the keys to grab my attention? Those blurry moments when I’m caught between sleep and being awake—they almost feel like you’re here. It’s this weird mix of joy and pain that kind of breaks me every time. And then I’m up for hours, trying to figure out what to do with myself. The days that follow? They just drag. I keep distracting myself to make it through.

So here I am, taking it one little step at a time. One hour at a time. That’s how I keep going.