My Secret Soul

 Grieving is a personal act. Done so utterly close to our heart, no one could ever know the depths to which it goes. And so it was with Doug and I in the fall of 1987. 

He entered the world silent. Like a thunderstorm that had finally ended, with the peacefulness of a soft rain, gentle but sure. Not meant for this world, his soul broke softly away to heaven. My arms were left empty, my heart was barren. I long to hold him as much today as I did in 1987. I longed to smell the freshness of a newborn after a bath. To run my hands across his face, count his fingers and toes, gaze into his beautiful eyes, or sing him a lullaby. 

So many found it hard to understand. They would express condolences or awkward platitudes. They were all done with the best of intentions, but how could they know? Things like that aren't discussed in pick up lines or grocery stores or even in the sacred halls of a church. It's simply implied, there must have been a reason. Maybe there was, but the pain remains. It becomes a part of your life, like brushing your teeth or eating. It must be dealt with to keep on living. 

His sisters never heard the softness of his laughter. We never knew when he would have begun to walk. I never cheered him on as he played football. I didn't see him go to prom or fall in love. Those were left for my imagination. 

There isn't a grave, only a box of precious mementos. A time worn pregnancy test, my discharge papers after my doctor's visits. Notes from friends, and a tiny cross. There is nowhere to bury these tiny angels.

It's funny, but when I'm asked how many children I have, I always reply 3 not 4. I feel sad that his memory is neatly stored away, never really spoke of. But he was real, I felt him within me, growing, longing to be born one day. He is as real to me as my other 3 children, he is my baby, Matthew David. 

In the end I realized he was never meant for my arms, only God's. And his life was our gift to God, by letting go for him to dance with the angels. One day we will meet again. I will run my hand across his face and hold him close, marveling at the miracle that he is. He will be perfect as I have always imagined. But it won't be in my time, it will be in heavens.