Every Lament is a Love Song

Monday, Monday

The second morning without Logan.  I woke up wondering where my morning song was, and jumped up to check on him, then remembered...  How many mornings will I wake up like this?  How many mornings will my body ache?

Vanessa was sweet enough to wait for me to pay her, so I asked her if I could come in and finish my other eyebrow.  I won't lie, I didn't want to go.  I didn't want to step foot in the Salon.  I didn't want to re-see and re-smell everything I had when I got the call.  I pathetically asked Lucky and Bart to go with me, and even though I didn't explain myself, they graciously said yes.  The three of us were clinging to each other, desperately holding on.

After we were done, we went to Walmart to pick up green bandannas and the cards we had made for the first responders.  It has a picture of Logan, and underneath, thanked them for being incredible and so gracious with us.  We said we were sorry they had to see him the way that they did, but we wanted them to remember him like the picture, happy and full of life.  We were blessed to have the first responders that we did.  They were incredible, and we saw how deeply Logan's death had touched them.  We wanted to give them peace.

I couldn't help but wonder, as we were walking through the store, if people knew.  Fernley is a small town and it was all over Facebook, on Fernley pages, before we had told half our family.  Did they know?  Did they know I had lost my baby.  Could they see my grief?  Could they taste my sorrow?  Did I look like a ghost as I floated through?  Why couldn't time fucking stop!?!?  I wanted to stand in the middle of the store and scream that he was here.  He lived!  He breathed!  He was my love and he took my heart with him... But I haven't broken yet. I haven't hardly cried. Not here. Not now. 

We took the cards to the Sheriff's office and the Fire Department. All we said was that there was an incident Saturday, and the office staff immediately knew who we were. They gently took the cards and fought to keep composure. What do you say to the family of a dead child? What could we say in return? 

Off to Reno. We weren't really keeping funeral clothes on hand. What do you wear to your babies funeral? Lucky and Bart picked a shirt, we found something for the kids... But I couldn't find anything. What do you wear to your babies funeral? I wanted to look beautiful and strong for my little guy.  He would giggle and coo when I got dressed, in his own way, telling me he thought I was beautiful.  I wanted to be beautiful for him.  She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come. Proverbs 31:25 I wanted to be that woman...  For my God and for my son, the one who loved to laugh.

We went to store after store. I am not much of a shopper, but I was frustrated that everything seemed over the top cheery. No one carries mourning clothes any more. Lucky and Bart (bless them) followed me around without complaining. They seemed as frustrated with neon as I was. 

I texted Angela before walking into the last store. "I'm too young for this." 

I think, as women, we see the toll that having babies take on us. After Logan, I felt deflated and worn out. I had three babies in six and a half years. But now... But now I looked in the mirror, wearing a Grey dress, and I saw a hurt, scared, little girl. I am so young, so very, very young. 

I stepped out of the room to show Lucky and Bart. The dress was too big, but three women stopped me, on the way to guys, to tell me how fantastic I looked. I wanted to say, Thank you, it's for my babies funeral, but I smiled and thanked them graciously instead. 

The nod and the look on Lucky and Bart's face confirmed that it was the one. Lucky went to see if they had it in small. Small. I am small. So tiny and insignificant. I am nothing. A tiny girl, in a dress too big. I am nothing, but his loss, oh God hear me, this loss is huge. This loss, in the heart of an insignificant girl, could rock the heavens.

I may have peace...  But I still have sorrow.  I do not mourn his death, I mourn my loss.