Today your brothers carried you for the last time. It was just you and them. My heart swelled, and broke, and also healed a tiny bit watching your six big brothers who've watched over you, played with you, teased you and been teased in return carry you to your resting place.
These are the boys who you threw pies at. Now young men, they were strong and yet tender as they laid the casket in its place. Each one loves you so much. You taught them, and me and dad, and your sisters. You taught us grace under pressure, forgiveness in pain, trust and hope in spite of trouble.
I've carried a stone heart in my pocket since you passed, but today I couldn't find it at the cemetery. (Turns out it was tucked down in a corner of my purse.) Mary handed me a heart that we'd made many years ago for Valentines and passed out. It was a cloth heart, designed to be warmed up to keep hands warm. Deborah sat with Linnaea. Daddy dedicated your grave. Other family was there as well.
My son. You took this broken family and brought us together. I am so grateful for you.
It's still not easy, but I do find myself smiling through the tears, at least sometimes. I suspect it will be that way for a long, long time, maybe until I get to come join you.
I was wrong, so very wrong. It was almost like losing you all over again. Your sweet ornaments with your pictures. The snowman I chose 13 years ago for your first ornament because it was entitled "One of a Kind," just like you. All the angel ornaments, and the one from a couple years ago with the bell and the pair of angel wings. So very many memories.
I miss you.
Somehow, I don't think that part will ever change.
I love you, my son.
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