I'll help you Mommy.

We went to Lucas' grave yesterday. The Littlest and me. Very rainy day and I was prepared for that, brought umbrellas and a blanket and jackets. And the flowers of course. He's getting a tiny bit older that we can hold basic on his level conversations now and I can explain in very simplistic terms while holding his attention where we are going and why. Keeping it very short, nothing at all elaborate. When we get there, he looks around the cemetery and asks where he is. Sigh. Of course, he won't understand for years to come and why should he? I tell him again, he's way up in the sky, we can't see him.

I gave him the choice (modern moms, modern times, crazy, I know) of sitting in the car and watching a movie (which I promise, it has come to be that they only watch on long trips and rarely just around town-honestly) or coming with me. Let me assure you, at the cemetery, there are few cars, fewer people and the van is literally 75-100 ft away from Lucas' marker so I'd be completely comfortable to allow him to stay in the van on a cool rainy day with me so close..but I digress. He wanted to go with me; of course. This is why I came prepared.

As we sat outside, and he with great interest watching me commenting on almost everything, the moment seemed to freeze in time. There I was, honoring my little son who died what seems like eons ago now, with my now young sweet son watching on, there in the flesh. What felt like the first time the Littlest could fathom any part of anything that has to do with Lucas, it just seemed like a very clarifying moment; hard to put into words. I explained again that we can't see him. He said to me, "Where is him?" and again I told him, "he's in Heaven, with God." Then quiet. God? Who's that? I've never met him, I'm sure he's thinking...very sure. I'm sure, even more sure, this is confusing to him. But, it's the truth and I'm not going to 'babyify' the facts for him; although I keep the facts quite simple. As I place the flowers in the urn and arrange them the best I can (florist I am not) silent tears falling on the marker -and since it was not raining at that time, he noticed. He got up and said, "What happened, why you crying?" and you know, I tried to stop, I wasn't sobbing, but still, I don't want to compound his concern or confusion so I really tried to suck it up and mostly, I did, but it was too late. He saw, he got it. And I told him.--

"Mommy just misses Lucas." To his, "where is him?" still trying to get it, me knowing it's too much for him to understand. "We can't see him Littlest, he's far far away." and his reply----which made me freeze in my skin, "I'll help you Mommy, I help you find him." and he begins to walk away, looking all over, for Lucas. No words.

I quickly wrapped it up, said my quiet words to God, cleaned up our mess, gathered our things and as the rain began to come down again, we hurried to the van. The cool rain felt good on my hot face and I was glad to have it there. The hurrying was for the Littlest, not for me. As we drove away, he jabbered on about this and that, "I tired Mommy" and "Where we going Mommy?" and finally about five minutes away from the cemetery with only short answers from me, I'm sure he was feeling the quiet, I know I was despite my best efforts...he said his final comment which if spoken in decibels would have been about a 50 and in his soft sweet voice he told me, "I'm here Mommy". Yes. Yes he is. To my ears at that moment it felt as if he really meant, 'don't forget me' and the guilt flowed. When I answered, "Yes you are buddy, you're right here with me" he couldn't know how upset I was that he had to point that out to me. When I told my husband about our exchange in the car, his perspective was that it was Lucas saying it for both of them.

He's with us in spirit always and with his brothers I'm sure he's connected intrinsically.

All of the days that were markers back then still are now, today. Probably always. Today, five years ago, Lucas went into that fated surgery, never to come out the same. I told my husband today, what could have been, was never meant to be-- and what is now was always meant to be. So sad to me yet how can I be sad when I look at our boys now? Such a twist of fate. What then was bad now has become fully good. Took a long time to get here, where we have joy on this side of death, and the journey was hard but teaching nonetheless. Wisdom comes in small packets doesn't it? It does. And sometimes, even for the sighted it takes blindness to be able to see it.

Jenn