A Time of Enlightenment

I used to think that it was pointless to visit graves or go to cemetaries since the person is not there. It's only what remains of them. I would roll my eyes every time we went out to the cemetary to put flowers on my grandfather's grave. Would feign interest as my grandmother walked around and looked at other headstones with great interest. I would stand there as my family paid respect to the loved one they missed and wonder why we were there. I observed the tears and the expressions of sorrow without understanding why there was such an emotional response. Now I don't say this to be offensive. I write this becuase I think I get it now and I didn't get it then.

Granted, some may think the person is actually there in the ground. Some may not. I am one who knows that my son is not in the small space that his little body now lies in at Lincoln Cemetary. But knowing this, and knowing that he is safe, completed loved and happier than he has ever been with the Lord, I still found myself having great difficulty leaving that very personal link that is his precious body that I carried for seven and a half months in my womb. The body that housed his very nature and essence. The body that gained around 15 pounds in his brief time with us and grew by 6 whole inches.

Sure he was small for his age but he was our Andrew. His little eyes peeked out at me from small openings the very first day after he was born. I cuddled him with his super soft baby skin next to mine to give him some extra close bonding while he was in the NICU those first few weeks of his life. He fell asleep in my arms many times contented by my presence. He enjoyed his times of laying on his daddy's belly as we had movie night and snuggle time with me as we laid next to each other about 8 inches apart with our foreheads touching slightly. He giggled when his feet were tickled and laughed at me as I sang him my silly little songs that I made up for him and his brothers as I changed his diaper.

I could go on and on of course. The point is - I get it. I didn't understand becuase I had never lost anyone so very close and dear to me as I have now. His body, though temporary, was still important. And is strongly tied to the memories I cherish of him.

So I kissed his little forehead right after he had died and spoke to him as though he were alive. I still had my right index finger in his little hand like I often did during his life as his spirit and soul departed. I even lovingly stroked his hardened, cold belly at our private visitation and before the service where we celebrated his short life. I lingered not wanting to go when the graveside prayer was done caressing the side of his casket. Dragged myself away to the car to return to the church for the luncheon with my family. And sobbed as I felt myself losing him even more as we drove away.

Why? Because his body was a direct link to him. And I hated letting him go and the thought of not seeing his face physically present and alive and smiling in front of me with love beaming from his big, blue eyes. And it made a statement that this was more final than I wanted it to be. I wanted him in my arms full of life growing bigger and bigger with each day. Not gone from this life.

So on Sunday, I did what I thought I never would. I longed to go to the cemetary to honor his memory. And I was the one who tearing up at the glimpse of the cemetary. And this time it was me with the quivering lip as I parked the van and looked at the new earth where his body had been laid. And it was me who had tears streaming down my face as I sank down next to his grave and said with a cracked voice, "Oh Andrew. I miss you so much." And I wept.

And I know that Andrew heard me.