A Resting Place

There is no good way to start this post. I've tried to word it so many different ways, to make it sound not so...wow didn't expect that. But I'm having a hard time so I'm just going to dive in. Sorry for the (see I can't even find a word to describe it) abruptness (if that's even what you'd call it?!?)

When Gideon died there were many in-your-face, decide-right-now things we had to deal with that, quite frankly, when you are not expecting your child to die, kinda slap you in the face. I mean, I just gave birth the thought of where to bury my son never once crossed my mind, even with as sick as he had previously been, the thought that he might not make it out of the NICU, just wasn't in my head...until he was in my arms...taking his last breath...

See I told you there was not good way to start this.

None of the decisions were easy but (praise the Lord) we were (and still are) surrounded by friends and family that either completely took care of some of heart wrenching decisions for us or helped us make them. One of the biggest decisions we had to make was to choose where we were going to bury Gideon. At that time I'd lived in Lima for less than a year and a half, 9 out of those 18 months I'd been on bed rest or in the hospital with Gideon. I didn't even know where a cemetery was and they were wanting us, in matter of days, to choose a place that we were going to visit the rest of our lives, to pick a cemetery to lay our son to rest...forever. How do you make that kind of decisions? Especially when you are already so screwed up from...well...losing your son...

We had some very dear friends of ours that had walked by our side through everything that had already happened the miscarriage, both bed rests, & the NICU. These friends of ours came to us with an offer. Because of their offer choosing a cemetery was as easy as it could be. You see they too had a son that died when he was just a few weeks old. After there son died they bought the plot right behind where he was buried. They told us that if we wanted the plot behind their son, for our son, we could have it. Relief flooded me at the thought that this major rest-of-our-life decision could possibly be that easy. The next day they took us to see the cemetery. The place we'd potentially be laying Gideon to rest.

The drive felt long. I felt numb. We pulled into the entrance of the cemetery. As we made our way down the gravel road I see big solid trees that line the drive on either side. I immediately fall in love with them, wondering how long they've been their and if the big van we are in will fit between them. We fit. I'm looking everywhere taking everything in, yet I'm not. What are we doing here? I am reminded. My son just died. We pull around the curve. We slow as we get just beyond the tree with the bench next to it. We stop. We give them a minute to get out and pay respect to their son. They get out. They go left. They walk all the way to the back. They stop. We wait. They turn to us. We join them. For a moment there are no words. What is there to say? Their son rests their now and soon ours will join him. They point to the exact spot. I stand their. Tear will not stop. I bawl. Strong arms blanket themselves around me. I thank God for my husband. We weep. We both know this is where our son will rest. Yet, there is peace. I look up from the spot where I stand. My breath is taken away. Beauty is what I see. Who would have thought such beauty could be found in a cemetery? But here it is. God is here, even in this place.

The next day we bury our son.