Andrew's Marker

Andrew's marker is being made right now. I got the call on Tuesday from the artist working on the main portion of the marker. It caught me off guard. I'm working on new marketing materials for one of my designers,I step away from my desk to get something off the printer and return to my desk to find a vmail waiting for me. Thinking it was just any ordinary business call, I dialed up my vmail and prepared to take notes.

"This is Brian. I have completed your son's marker. Please give me a call to let me know when you can come over to take a look at it."

I quickly deleted the vmail as tears were forming in my eyes. My heart was hurting. I tried to push away the emotion annoyed at its inconvenience. I called a friend and asked her to join me for lunch. I drove. We enjoyed the time away from the office and she joined me at the Art Studio.

Gingerly I followed Kari into the room where the moldings and initial production are done of their products. Nervously I looked around and quickly glanced over a shape I have seen many times in the pdf's I have on my computer at my desk. Renderings provided of the marker's conceptual design. And there it was. Andrew's marker.

It was not complete. It lacked the engraved granite piece that would personalize it. But it was still the shell of the marker.

I ran my fingers over it lightly. The emotions I felt were mixed and strange. I can't even describe them except to know that I felt sorrow and how much I missed my little special. The rest just mingled together below the surface.

How am I supposed to judge if it's alright? If I like it? It's my son's grave marker? It's a necessarily thing. Something we wanted to be special because he was special. But not a monument. And yet, something to tell others a little bit about our little special and our love for him. To tell of our faith.

It's exciting and yet, not really at all.

It's a reminder that my little boy is gone. It's a reminder that I have another event to live through that will be painful.That will be hard on my boys.

And on top of it, Mark told me that some of his family want to be there when it's installed.

While that is kind of them, I don't know what I think of that. I hate going to his grave.

I don't know what to think about this.

Sometimes I wish I could escape this grief.