The Breath, Smiles, Tears of all my Life

We held a small service today - just my husband, myself, my brother and my parents.

Such a tiny, tiny white casket.

We lit candles. We placed a bouquet of white flowers - roses, baby breath - on the casket. We rested a card from J's parents against the knitted blanket we wrapped in him the night he was born. My mother placed a single square from the quilt she made for him when we knew we'd lose him.

I have the quilt itself on my pillow; I sleep on it every night.

We prayed silently. At least, I did.

I wept silently.

We sat: Dad, Mum, my brother, me, J. We held hands.

J read Elizabeth Barrett Browning's Sonnet 43 - a request from his folks and the only words we could find.

The others left us for our last goodbye.

I didn't know how to leave.

I clutched J's hand. I bent down to kiss that small white casket. I thought my heart had already broken. I was wrong. I heard the crack of it as my lips touched the wood.

Goodbye, little man. Goodbye, my beautiful, beautiful boy. 

I love you.