It was bitter cold this afternoon at the cemetery when we went to bring the small tree for my son's grave.
The young man working at the place where we bought the tree knew my husband and knew we were heading out to our little place in the country, the young man who is about the age my own son would be, he jovially asked us, "Do you think that tree is big enough for out there?" I took a quick deep breath and told him it would work just fine. He had no way of knowing the gravity of our purchase and I felt it was kinder just to be cheerful right along with him.
We'll be going back tomorrow. December 8, 2013 will make two years he has been gone.
December is, in some ways, a month of loss for our family. My grandfather, my brother, one of my mother's brothers, and my son, they all died in December. So in this season of joy, we also carry sorrow. I know there are others. I feel for them.
But life does go on, and I will acknowledge my loss and remember my son, and tonight I will address my Christmas cards and get them ready to send out. The tears, the memories, happy and sad, will all flow while I work. Love knows no bounds, even in death.
Tomorrow evening we will gather at my parents' house. We will eat dinner together. There will be stories shared and probably a few tears shed. I suppose in some ways it's true: our loved ones are not gone as long as we hold their memories in our hearts.