Sisko has been gone for more than six months but it feels as fresh as yesterday when I let myself think about it. And sometimes when I don't.
Thursday night I dreamed he hadn't died. He'd been in California for a year and when we found him I felt such joy.
I forgot the dream (the brain tries to protect the heart) until Michael and I were talking over coffee and some unknown thing reminded me. And then, of course, I wept.
Last night we sat around the fire before rain forced our jam session indoors, and that too, reminded me. The glider was Sisko's special place.
Within seconds of our setting it up, he'd claim its cushion, a king commanding all he surveyed. Last summer we had to make him a step. He couldn't climb up on his own. But he was happy once he got there.
Oh how I miss my boy.