Blue's memorial was last Saturday, November 19, his due date. Thirty people--family, friends and neighbors--stood in my parents' yard while we remembered my baby. The weather was beautiful; the sky was high and blue. I asked my dad to open the ceremony. He didn't expect to have to choke out every word. I didn't look around much, but according to others, the other men cried too.
My mom recited a poem, some friends read a few quotes, and then my aunt read Blue's bedtime story, Draw Me a Star. I thought I would sob through all of this, but I mostly just dabbed at wet eyes. After the readings we planted a tree. I sprinkled a small amount of Blue's ashes to mingle in the roots. Everyone helped to put dirt around the tree, some with a shovel, others with their hands. The tree is an amelanchier, small and native to the Northeast. Its flowers are white in spring and its fall foliage is orange. In summer it produces berries that are similar to blueberries. Of course. (That was an accident, actually!) After the planting I spoke aloud to Blue. Told him his story, told him how I missed him, asked for his forgiveness. I told him I would meet him someday through his brother or sister, and that I couldn't wait. I told him he is beautiful and perfect to his mama. Read the speech here.
After the ceremony, my cousin's husband stood in front of the tree and called energy from his heart, through the tree, down to the core of the earth, up through the tree, up to the universe, back through the tree, down to the core of the earth...He held me and we both rocked with sobs as he explained his belief that souls make agreements. Some agreements last for 90 years on earth, some for 40, some for 25 weeks and 3 days of pregnancy. Blue fulfilled his agreement. Blue needed me, and he chose me to help him fulfill his agreement.
|Sending love and energy to Blue's tree.|
I felt peace on Sunday. I believe I felt some peace on Monday and today. I think maybe Thanksgiving won't be so bad. Though I know this by now: I shouldn't plan on it.