Saying Good-Bye Saying good-bye to your child is the hardest thing any parent will ever have to face. The death of a child is unnatural as it upsets the expected orderliness of the universe. It is also the last thing you think will ever happen to you. When Joshua died, we lost our hopes, dreams, and expectations we had held for him. Suddenly he was no longer our future … but part of our past and we were left with very few memories of him. So, as any mother would, I grasped at anything I could … including the funeral for a memory. This was our final opportunity to be his parents … to say good-bye. It was also the hardest thing I think we’ve ever had to do. I have NEVER been so devastated in all my life. When I held him in my arms for the last time and had to say good-bye, knowing that it was the last time I would ever see him … I wanted to die … truly. Then came time for the funeral for him. How was I going to do this? How could anyone plan a funeral or memorial for his or her own child? Joshua’s memorial service was held during a gloomy morning on November 15th. Glenn and I made our way to The Sands Funeral Home for our little baby’s funeral. Joshua had left us 8 days previously and the pain was still so raw that I sobbed the entire drive there. I was so afraid of seeing him in his casket. When we entered the funeral home, the service director met us at the door. He was a very soft-spoken man who had tons of sympathy for us. He said it was always hardest to say good-bye to a child and he had set up the best room for our son. He led us to the room Joshua was “waiting in rest” for us. It was a beautiful little burgundy room with candles lit against the walls. I had the distinct feeling this room was used for children’s services as it had rocking horses and teddy bears on the border against the ceiling. I felt worse. I also heard the sound of music, almost like lullabies playing in the background. None of this was helping me and I felt short of breath. I looked around the semi-darkened room and froze when I noticed Joshua’s tiny white casket at the front of the room. It was draped with flowers. I sobbed and thought that this whole thing shouldn’t be happening. I wanted him back. I swallowed and blinked back tears, then let Glenn lead me to the front where two chairs had been placed for us to sit. In so many ways, I was glad we had chosen a private service for last moments with him as a family. I sat down and leaned forward to touch Joshua’s casket. I couldn’t believe this was happening. Why did he have to die? Glenn and I talked about many things during those 2 hours. We sat next to each other, held hands and whispered to each other little words of encouragement. We spent the time simply saying as much as we could to build some sort of memory for him … even if it was only about his feet or the way his hair had fallen across his forehead. It was just so hard to believe that this sweet little boy of ours would not be with us after that day. I kept touching the casket. I don’t know why. Maybe to tell myself that this was really happening and it wasn’t all a dream like I kept hoping it was. When the time came to leave, I couldn’t. I just couldn’t leave him in that room. He was so small and alone. I thought he must be afraid. I wanted to take him from his casket and hold him … tell him that everything would be okay. Of course I couldn’t. Glenn gently led me away from our son. It was so hard to actually put one foot in front of the other and physically leave the room. My poor little boy! That day became the second hardest day of my life. A few days after Joshua’s funeral, Glenn came to my hospital room with a small gift. I opened it and found a beautiful gold heart-shaped locket. Before I could open it though, with tears in his eyes, Glenn told me that he had sealed a bit of Joshua’s ashes into it. … this way I could have him next to my heart always. I was so touched. I couldn’t and still can’t to this day express my absolute gratitude for this gesture. It has been a source of constant strength to me during many darks hours. Joshua was cremated and now sits on the mantel of our fireplace. We light a candle on the 7th of every month for him. I still shed tears on that day and I believe I always will. However, I do find it a comfort having him with us in the house. There have been many nights when I couldn’t sleep and went out to the living room and swore I could feel his presence. How much presence could a baby make? Enough to comfort me during the really hard times. This may be why Glenn and I decided not to have him put into a cemetery after all. We spent many hours talking about this and decided that instead, Joshua will be placed in my casket when I die and buried with me. We did have a stone monument made for him and it sits in our backyard so that we can “visit” with him … but he will remain in the house with us. I have designed a small and beautiful garden in the backyard where his monument rests and I am happy there. It also gives the other kids somewhere to “visit” their brother. I have found peace here.