October 8th, 2010 I was boarding a plane to go to Declan's funeral. I had a c-section 11 days prior. Walking was a challenge without significant pain. I pushed 2 year old Emmy's stroller with a few bags on it. My mom had asked if it was too heavy, but there were car seats and other bags...no one else to grab them; Christian and my mom were already full and 5 year old Bryce couldn't take all that much. So I lied and I pushed it. I felt a pang, but I ignored it.
We were late and we needed to get to the plane. There was a hold up, since the airport security decided that my mom's curlers were a threat to everyone's security. We spent much precious time waiting for them to release my mom's bag. When the bag was given we hurried...I couldn't hurry...but I did anyway.
Boarding was taking place, but the line was long. The chaotic nature of traveling with children made my nerves raw. Christian had the brilliant idea of going to the bathroom with our son. I started to panic when it was the last call to board. My mom unknowingly made my panic a category 5 when she decided to take Emmy on the plane without the rest of us.
I was in tears when Christian finally found me. I yelled, not caring at all people could hear and probably thought I had lost my mind. We boarded and there weren't any seats by my mom and precious daughter. I nearly lost it again.
As we headed back I realized there weren't three seats for Christian, Bryce and I. I nearly broke into tears again. The people aboard had no idea the mess they were flying with that day.
A kind stranger moved when asked and we were able to secure seats many rows away from my daughter. The separation nearly killed me.
I popped a pain pill since, by then, the incision was aching and I was certain I had pushed much too hard.
I hate flying, this day was no different. We got into the air and I held Christian's hand much too tightly.
The only thing I was even grateful for was to see Declan again. I had time with him a little longer before he was to be buried.
We arrived at my mom's home. My sister was busy in the kitchen. I had not taken her calls. I hadn't take any calls. I barely text anyone. She greeted me without looking at me. I knew it was hard to know what to say.
I spent time putting together Declan's picture frames. I had a friend drop off the frames and I was assembling the pictures since I had them printed up where my family lived.
As I determined which picture went where, my dad came in and told me my grandpa was sad he couldn't come. I knew this would be the case...he had surgery not long before.
It was planning, going to see Declan, having time to sit and watch the slideshow I had made for Declan. When the day of the funeral came I was so depleted.
The next day, October 9, 2010, my friend finished my hair straightening, because the task seemed too unbearable. We got ready and we went to the mortuary.
I sat in a chair at the viewing. We had our children there and only siblings and grandparents. I didn't move until right before they closed the casket. I kissed him once more and told him goodbye. It was then my strong Christian, who had cried very little, wept openly in front of our families. He said goodbye aloud and he bore the task of helping to seal our baby into his tiny casket.
We loaded up and went to the cemetery that was within walking distance, but I was in no condition to walk it.
Christian and I walked our living children up to where many family and friends were awaiting us. I hugged them all. I was grateful for each of them. I didn't even know how to express what their presence meant. Each hug felt like power to keep me from falling to pieces.
Christian took that tiny casket and carried it lovingly to the place designated for his graveside service. It was a good service. Emmy was restless and was given Lifesavers to keep her from wiggling off my lap.
When it was over and I had hugged, taken pictures, and everyone had left Christian and I stood there alone. The men that would place Declan's casket into the ground came up to us. They were young, probably in their early twenties. They offered to let us place him into the ground. Christian answered before I even thought about it. Of course we would.
I lifted the casket, it wasn't heavy, but I couldn't lift it alone. One of the guys mainly held it and I was pretty much just touching it. Christian got into the grave in his suit and placed his casket down. The guys helping had to pull Christian out. I dropped a red rose onto the casket and then turned away.
I didn't watch or look back when they covered it, which they respectfully waited until we were gone. When I came back it was just a mess of dirt and yellow pedals Emmy had spread from a plant a friend from high school had brought.
I placed another rose on the grave. I had done it. I had done what I felt I couldn't do. He was buried. I had made it through. I was still alive. How, I didn't know.
I sat down that night and wrote to Declan in the journal I thought I would give to him one day. (Each of my children get journals that I begin before they are born.) I had not written in his since he died. I bore my heart to the journal. I missed him. There was nothing left to look forward to. The funeral was over. I didn't have anymore interaction. Now the longing and waiting began.
Six years have passed. I sat in this same chair in my mother-in-law's home and wrote my first journal entry to him after he had died. Six years I have missed a son I never got to watch grow. Six years I have decorated a grave instead of singing, "Happy Birthday!" Six years of love I haven't been able to give.
This birthday hit hard. It was the first time I was without Christian on his birthday. It was the first time I was alone with my kids just clueless how to make it a fun day as it has usually been the last few years.
I didn't expect it. 6? Why 6? Was it because he would have started school this year? Was it because my youngest would finally be alone with me this year...but instead he has never known anything else? Why 6?
I talked to a friend who lost her baby son 30+ years ago. She still cries on his birthday. She still misses him like it happened yesterday. In so many ways I feel I am an 80 old woman. These 6 years have felt like 60. Most days I feel almost bad that life has moved on and I don't cry like I used to, but then it hits and I am almost knocked over by the concussion. It comes in unexpected ways. I'm not sure what is worse...not knowing when it will hit or always feeling the pain. I am starting to realize that 6, 10, 15, 20...it isn't going to get easier.
As we went to Declan's grave today, Ollie touched Declan's stone and said, "Miss you!" I'd like to think he meant it. I wonder if he was just mimicking me. But either way it was amazing! Ollie is the same age Emmy was when Declan died. I find it strange how a 2 year old could possibly understand the grieving of their mother...but I have found my biggest solace has been from 2 year olds.
I am very grateful for this time to reflect on Declan's life. I am not always able to be around others or function to my most capable level, but I like the time I get to take to mourn, celebrate, and just think about Declan and what he has meant to me.
I'm not sure how I will react next year. I am sure it will take me by surprise as it always seems to at unexpected times. Maybe someday I will anticipate better, but I doubt it.
