the 5th

It has been one month since Eli was born.  It seems much, much longer than that to me.  I drove to the cemetery today.  I had never been there before we buried Eli.  I have been there many, many times since.  Did you know the entrance is on 400 North?  I didn't.  I still feel like I don't belong there.  As I drove down there today, I realized that I didn't want to be there today because it will remind me that he died.  

I want the 5th to be a day where I remember him alive.  Since, it is the same day he died, that might be a bit confusing, but that's the part I want to remember.  I don't want to think that he would be "1 month old" today.  That doesn't help.  Because he isn't a month old.  I don't really know how old he is  God doesn't measure time like us.  But, if I think of him as a month old, than I only remember that he isn't and I look around at all the babies that ARE a month old (and there are plenty to look at...don't worry about that), and that is useless and kind of an incorrect idea.  Here's another thing to think about.  If he were here, and he were a month old, he wouldn't be doing the same things as other 1 month old babies.  He would never be the same because he had trisomy 18.  He would probably be going in for surgery or getting a new feeding tube or something. But God never intended for him to be here on December 5th anyways...It is amazing how my mind wants to imagine him as a healthy baby boy, but God never imagined that.  It wasn't in His plan. I have a hard time reconciling that idea. 

I wanted to go to that sacred hospital room (LD 18), but I knew it wouldn't be sacred without him there.  So, I drove down to the cemetery, even after I thought it was a bad idea.  It's really the only place left to go. I always have a good experience there.  It is usually quiet and calm and I feel close to Eli there.  We have conversations, and I tell him lots of things.  Sometimes, he even tells me things, but he isn't nearly as chatty as me.  Sometimes I just sit there because when you love someone, you don't have to talk all the time.  You just have to be there with each other.

I pulled up to my usual spot and there was an unusual amount of cars there.  Did you know that people are dying all the time?  They are. If you go to the cemetery, you will notice this too.  There was a funeral very close to where Eli was buried. I saw about 25 old men in uniform and a casket with a flag over it.  I had the sense that these guys went to lots of funerals.  In fact, as I sat by Eli's grave, I heard a man ask another man if he thought "the body was in the back of the truck over there....like the time they saw that in Salem?"  I just stared at them as they walked by.  I thought that any one of them could be next and they probably all knew it.  I thought it was good they were all retired and had time to go to funerals all the time.  

I felt like I didn't belong there.  I have felt like that a lot when I go there.  I think "I shouldn't be here!!"  I see older people there and I think, "Those are the people that belong here."  I guess no one really wants to go to the cemetery, but when you are young and you have to take pretzels and goldfish to your baby's funeral for your other kids, it seems very backwards.   People are supposed to die in a certain order and we get pretty upset when the order isn't what we wanted. 

It does something rough to you psychologically, to bury your child.  So, after a couple of minutes, I just left.  I knew that there was no way I could have the experience I wanted with Eli with all of those people there and I didn't really want to remember his death today. 

I wanted to remember that he lived...and that he still lives.