Decision Central

When I opened my eyes this morning Elijah had died all over again.  It was real.  He was gone.  I didn't want to get up and start the day without him.  It seemed impossible to function without my precious son.  How was I going to get up, put my big girl panties on and face this day?  With the help of great friends, family and cabbage leaves I managed to somehow put one foot in front of the other.

I knew Joey and I had to plan Elijah's funeral but I had no idea where to start and honestly, I didn't want to.  Previously, I had been very fortunate in my life to have not had to deal with making decisions after a death.  I'd only been to three funerals in my life (a friend's father, my grandmother and a friend's brother) none of which required and decision making on my part other than to show up to express my love, support and sorrow for the family and life that was lost.  I wished the situation was the same but it was far from it.

We couldn't stand to sleep at our house without our baby so we camped out on Lauren and Eric's living room floor, snuggled close to Taggart, without sleeping a wink.  The morning came too quickly and I broke down at the thought of facing what was before me.  Pumping and deciding where we would lay Elijah to rest.

Pumping was incredibly difficult.  A vicious reminder that I no longer had a baby to nurse, I was no longer needed for nourishment or comfort for Elijah.  Each time I hooked myself up to that damn machine it didn't feel like I was draining my breasts - it felt like I was draining my heart, my soul, my complete existence.  "This is for him, it was supposed to be for him."  was all I could manage to say through my tears and heartache.  It seemed as though it was just as hard on Joey.  Each time he was right beside me, holding me, crying with me and when I was finished he took everything away so that I did not have to be the one to pour out the milk or clean the pump parts.  He has no idea how much this gesture meant to me.  I should tell him.

Decision Central was now set up and in full swing.  Lauren and Laura were side-by-side at the kitchen table searching for funeral homes and cemeteries in the area, calling to check availability and taking notes on cost and other details I did not pay a bit of attention to.  I pulled a typical girl move and picked the team with the best jersey - which cemetery was the prettiest?  which one has trees?  which one is the best-kept?  Emerald Hills.  Check.  I was glad this part was over but was dreading walking into the funeral home.  It was only a matter of time before I had to start making hard decisions.  Decisions that if I passed on to someone else I might regret.

The worst part, well, I can't even say the "worst part" because there is no ranking system advanced enough to determine which part of burring your child is worse - it all sucks. Bad. When I was asked about the obituary I didn't respond, I couldn't.  Not because I didn't know what to say but because I literally could not bring myself to say anything that would be put in writing for Elijah's obituary.  It was like if I resisted long enough I might wake up from this nightmare before I accepted it as reality.  I finally spoke when I was asked if I wanted to add anything personal. I admit, my tone was not pleasant and my anger was misguided but I managed to bark out, through a river of tears and sniffing, "Nothing I say would do him justice.  He was an amazingly perfect baby." Unanimously, everyone in the room agreed that needed to be included.

Walking the grounds of the cemetery to decide which plot was worthy of Elijah was impossible.  All I wanted to do was scream at the top of my lungs.  Why am I having to do this? How do you choose? As if that isn't enough, how do you decide if you get one or four spaces?  I refused to think about anything other than getting four spots in a row - I wanted Eli to know that we planned to join him one day.  I did not want him to be alone.  A gust of wind blew through the cemetery and the wind chimes sang and danced beautifully as Joey suggested that we think about getting only a place for Elijah.  My heart shattered - well, the shattered pieces of my heart shattered.  I went back to thinking about how he would be all alone and would think that we were just going to leave him there without intentions of a return.  The chimes sang again as if God had commanded them to tell me that Elijah was not alone and he already knows the day that we will be reunited. For the first time I thought about what it meant to get four plots.  Three more people had to die.  Me, one.  Joey, two.  Taggart, IMPOSSIBLE.  I was not even going to go there.  If we purchased a plot for him now were we jinxing him?  Would that mean he would not marry, grow old and pick out his own resting place?  What if our family grows?  One spot, right here between these trees and to the right hand of Jesus it is, Mr. Cemetery Real Estate Salesman.

After we finished at Emerald Hills we headed to the church to iron out details there.  It was either surprisingly easy to get everything planned or I was so overwhelmed that I zoned out and let others talk and make decisions for me.  Either way, we walked out with the memorial service being scheduled for 10am on Wednesday, 10/24/12 at Saint Vincent DePaul Catholic church.  Now, time to head to the house and somehow pick the perfect scriptures and songs for Elijah's memorial service along with the clothes he will wear and the items that will forever be placed with him.