Tuesday, May 31, 2005

I must have been quite the sight

Sitting in our kitchen, crying, and playing with our dead son's hair.

The glass locket I ordered arrived today. I wasted no time pulling out the envelope labelled "Hair of Alex Gerard C."

It's amazing how utterly precious a few hairs have become to me. My house is filled with hair (dog, cat, man, boy, me)...but these hairs are special. These hairs came from the head of the baby boy I buried two short weeks ago. These are those precious hairs we, as mothers, debate having cut for the first time. These are the hairs that, had Alex lived, would have changed from dark brown to light blonde to perhaps strawberry red...and back again...just like his father and older brother. These are the hairs that were a part of my gift from God, gone back to God in the blink of an eye.

Truth be told, I had a hard time getting them out of the envelope. They were stuck in there and no matter how I shook the envelope, they didn't seem to want to come out. Finally, I used a pencil to fish them out...fearing I would shake the envelope the wrong way and the hairs would fall out and be lost forever. With each attempt to remove them from the envelope, I cried harder and harder. Then, I finally got a few out of the envelope and I had to attempt to organize a lock or two into something presentable in my new glass locket. As each strand fought being shaped into the locket, I cried harder.

The feel of it in my hands was an amazing tactile reminder of our beautiful boy. So soft and sweet and wonderful. I can still feel his soft cheek as I kissed him goodbye. I can still feel the weight of him as I rocked him in my arms. I can still feel the tiny fingers and toes as I caressed him gently before saying goodbye.


It's amazing how utterly precious a few hairs have become to me.

1 comment:

Julie said...

Our babies share a middle name.
Perhaps sometime you'd care to exchange an email?
Regarding other posts that you feel are too long or sad. Let it out. Please. Be open and honest and REAL. We wouldn't be here reading it, if we didn't need to know others feel as bad as we do. Misery loves company. I think it might help us heal.