I picked out what I would wear to bury my son in tonight.
Simple black on black.
I know that he is no longer there, that his body, without his soul is just a symbol.
Yet, it seems wrong to treat his little vessel with anything but the highest respect.
It DID house his soul for a time.
The entire time we had him.
It allowed him to kick and flip and drink and pee.
It kept him here with us. With me.
That little, perfect body, held within it a soul too beautiful to be seen.
How gracious, we can get so close to one another.
He knew Dad’s voice as well as he knew my heartbeat.
And even when his heart slowed to half of mine, it held him.
This little, red housing, held my little boy.
Tighter than I could. Closer than I have yet to hold him.
And while, he lives on in the presence of God, this vessel ties him back to me.
Allows me to visit and think of him often.
To be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord.
There is no better place for him.
Not our home. Not Dad’s arms. Not even my womb.
How I wish he were in one of them.
Instead, he is more alive than I have yet become.
And his ten fingered, ten toed, tiny mouthed vessel, is here.
So, I can be as close to him as humanly possibly.
I picked out what I would bury my son in tonight.
As I cuddle up for sleep, holding an identical blanket to the one he will be wrapped in for all time, my heart sorrows within me.
Oh, that I could see his face and touch my lips to him again.
Instead, I clutch this blanket. Hurry my husband to bed. Hope we haven’t forgotten anything. For, in only 12 hours, we will arrive at the site.
Where what remains of Charlie on Earth, will be placed into the ground.
Sealed in a vault, that he may be best preserved.
I chose what I would bury my son in tonight.
And I despise it.
May the Lord continue to show us His grace and shower on us, His peace.