I NEEDED to see him one last time....

When your baby dies, nothing is right.  So many decisions to make, so quickly they need to be made, and planning for your child in death is something you never think about.  Nor should you have to.

We decided to cremate Ryan, which was a choice I knew was right.  Just before Mother's Day, we lost our dog, Ryan's dog, Lucky.  I was going to bury him in our backyard but Ryan had a violent reaction to this.  He thought it was depressing to bury him in the ground and asked if we could cremate him and bring the ashes home.  To him this was the right way to handle things.  I honored his wishes, but in retrospect, I somehow feel he was laying out his own wishes for the future.  I honored his wishes again.

I had the urgency to see my little boy one last time.  I needed to see him in the last spot his body would be upon this earth.  This happened to be at the foot of the crematory, but it didn't matter, I needed to see him one last time.

My mom went with me.  It was not easy, by any means.  Laying on him were the two roses my sister had bought for her and I to give him.  In his pocket, a note from his brother.  I put his report card in his pocket...a 3.5 GPA which would have gotten him his driver's license.  I was so proud, so I wrote a note on it for him.  I was also so sad as he didn't get to celebrate what he told me he was going to do....get his license.  I also put a copy of the poem I had written him in his pocket. 

As I stood there, tears just streamed down my face.  I held his hand, ran my hands through his gorgeous hair, rubbed his thick eyebrows, and held his beautiful face in my hands for the last time.  My little boy was gone and I could not wrap my head around this.  The pain was all consuming.  I turned to walk out, and as I did, I heard the squeek of the door opening....the door which led to my little boy's cremation.  My heart dropped.  I will never forget that sound, but more so, I will never forget my little boy lying there, lifeless, as I held his face in my hands.  Again I wonder...how is a mother suppose to do this?