It was like the wave of grief swallowed me up in an instant. A physical blow that took my breath away.
This blue satin was purchased by Gavin's Grandma Bailey. She bought it to make the pillow his head now rests on. She said, "It matches the color of his eyes." And it does - perfectly.
Somehow, I still cannot come to grips with the separation from Gavin's physical body. I know his spirit no longer resides in that sweet little imperfect - yet so perfect - body. A body that now lies under a patch of grass next to many, many other two foot caskets. I have tried to explain the feeling I have about burying a child a being separated from that child's body. It's indescribable. Something no one really gets until they do it themselves.
I pray there is never another mother who has to do this.
I dreamed of creating a sweet baby all my life. I carried that little body for eight months. Cared for it for three months in a hospital. Held it while it breathed the last breath. Held it for two hours before placing it on that blue satin pillow. And gave it one last kiss before they closed the top and we said goodbye. No one can say there isn't a strong connection and love between a child's body and a mother. Even when the spirit has left. A mother still cares for it. Longs to hold it. Just for one more minute. To give it a million more kisses.
I have come to a peace about Gavin's plan. And mine too. I know that I cannot be with his spirit right now, but to know that his blond hair, blue eyes and funny little grin are just a mere two miles from my home . . . it's almost more than I can bear right now.
I miss him today. Desperately. I miss his sweet spirit and tiny little body that now lays on a pillow of blue satin - that matches his eyes.
3 comments:
You are the sweetest mother. I'm crying with you today. Bless your heart.
Thank you for posting this. I really needed it right now.
Because we were away at school, I couldn't bear to bury Cora's body in a place I knew we were living for only a short time and would eventually leave. So we had her cremated. But we spread the ashes in a beautiful place.
Today I'm grieving not having a grave to visit. I couldn't put my finger on it until I read this. I don't have a place to visit the body I created, or a headstone to tell the world she was here. Thank you for helping me sort this feeling out.
I know you miss Gavin. I miss him and think about him all of the time but I am not his mother. I can't even imagine the ache and pain of losing a child. How grateful I am to know that he will live with his family some day. Thank you for the gentle reminder.
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