This coming Tuesday will be a year since we said goodbye to Papa. I can remember telling Erik about Papa being gone. In his sweet little voice, he just looked at me and said "so Papa is in heaven with Aunt Margaret?" (who passed away in August of last year). He just sat there for a moment and finally looked at me again and said "I sure am gonna miss him Mama". And then he hopped down off my bed and went back to playing. I would've never thought in a hundred billion years that 12 days after saying goodbye to Papa that I would also be saying goodbye to my son. I seen the inside of a funeral home more in those 2 weeks than any person should ever have to do. We planned Papa's funeral and then planned Erik's funeral in exactly the same way we did with Papa. They both had wooden caskets and were dressed to a T. I love God more than anything else in the world, but during those 2 weeks, I was questioning if he even existed. How could he possibly take Papa AND Erik from our family within 2 weeks? It still doesn't make any sense to me, but I know that He has some sort of plan. I just wish he would put it into effect sooner rather than later.
No parent should EVER have to bury their child. Parents are SUPPOSED to die before their children - of old age. I am devastated over the loss of Papa, but he has lived a long, long life. He had plenty of stories to tell about his very interesting life. He had had the chance to actually live! Erik, on the other hand, hadn't gotten the chance to live at all. He a very fulfilling 5 years, but I just know that he was going to be someone someday.
Anyway - to the point of this whole blog.
In the process of planning Erik's funeral, the subject of his hair came up. Before he died, he was trying to let it grow out so that he could start wearing it curly again. Erik was constantly watching me fix my hair in the mornings and he loved it when I would "fix" his like mine - meaning curly. Erik had a head full of beautiful hair. The funeral home called and asked what I wanted to do with his hair. I told them that I wanted to come fix it because nobody else could do it the way I could. They didn't think that that would be a very good idea. I agreed. I suggested that his hair be cut back short again, but that I only wanted the lady who has cut his hair all of his life do it. They agreed, but I had to get Mrs. Wanda to agree to it as well. Out of the kindness of her heart, she drove to Ware Shoals and cut my precious baby's hair one last time. In the whole process of this going on, I demanded that every single strand of his hair be saved for me. I had planned to pick it up a few days after burying him, but here I am almost 365 days later, I still haven't picked up the bag containing his beautiful hair. I know he's gone. He's been gone for 11 months and 14 days. I know he's not EVER coming back, but I just can't make myself drive up to the funeral home and pick up the last thing that I will ever have of him. I can't do it. Getting that bag will really make the fact that he's gone real. And I don't want it to be real. I need my boy back - more now than ever. He was my sunshine and could make me smile when nobody else could. The feel of his little arms around me was all I needed to make my day 100% better. A kiss from his little "fish" lips could always make everything better.
Here we are at Halloween again. I can see him now getting all dressed up in his chaps, cowboy boots and cowboy hat. I still have his hat and his boots, but he went to heaven ready to be the cowboy that he was here. I sometimes regret burying him in his chaps, but I know that they were his most favorite thing.
1 comment:
Why don't you go ahead and pick up the bag of hair and then put it inside of a pillow that you could sleep with at night? That way a part of him would be with you while you sleep and you would have something tangible of him to hold and cuddle.
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