big shoes

Marty quickly puts down his video game controller, a term you used hours ago that he laughed about until he seemed disgusted.
You question if your son ever thinks that your part of his life in anyway.
“Death” he responded, “I want to talk and I want to talk about death.”
“Great!” Happy to get a response of any kind, “We will talk about death for four days straight and just eat not so good yogurt.”
By the third day your son is singing poetic prose about death, you have cried and cried over and over again feeling more alive then ever. Wrapped up in a rug as he unleashes secrets of what it is to be alive and what death brings.
By the forth day you are tired and you are laying face down in yogurt, Marty just looks out the window and repeats "Death."
You quit your job and this cycle continues for weeks, you just eat no so good yogurt, you have lost track of Marty. You believe his flying at other times a demon.
When you turn on the TV for the first time with the hopes of being inraged you see that they have named you weatherman of the year. You cry a single tear of blood and realize as Marty is free basing his hair that you are on the right track. Change is hard, you have to move forward.