We took Micah to see his big brother on Saturday. Of course he fell asleep on the car ride there and we let him stay sleeping in the car.
Both D and I felt it was time...we needed to go see Ezra. We haven't been back since the unveiling of his gravestone on his 1st birthday. Although neither of us feel Ezra most present at the cemetery, we've both wanted to go...but between a problem pregnancy and the ice and snow, we just haven't made it. Now that we've gained our footing as parents to a living child, we knew it was time.
We were both so surprised to see how many of the stones and shells that many of you sent or brought for the unveiling were still present on the stone. We brought 3 stones (1 for each of us) that we had collected in our journeys and left them for our boy. I was struck by the calm that came over me as we arrived. On past visits to the cemetery, I've revisited the pure shock of having buried a child each time we arrived. This time felt different. It's not that I accept that Ezra is dead in the sense of having reconciled with the Universe. But the fact that he's gone has integrated into my being, it has become part of my identity. I felt peace in seeing Ezra's name on that stone, since it is one of the few places his name will always be remembered. I guess this is what they call in thera-speak, "the new normal".
Afterwards over lunch at a nearby diner, D and I just stared at each other in wonder - how did we get here? 10 years ago, we knew each other but neither of us had noticed a romantic spark. Now. here we sit, married and parents to one little boy who lives only in our hearts, and one who lives in our hearts and our arms. I may have found acceptance, but I'll never understand.
