Fresh Tears

I don't cry often anymore, just some subtle tears at night maybe. 

In anticipation of going home for a few hours over the weekend, I thought maybe I would call about the headstone for my babies.

You wouldn't know or understand the difficulty of such a task unless you too have buried a member of your family.  Something you have to work up too, something you have to have strength for, something you have to get up the nerve to do.  I had such a moment at work today. 

I immediately acted on it, for those times will quickly pass.

I dialed, had to explain who I was and what I wanted twice.  (All while biting my lip and holding my breath for this dreaded call, about such a hard topic, to be over)

The gentleman at the end of the phone knew what I was talking about.  I could hear him flipping through papers and his words, "Oh, yes, that is to arrive this week!" 

I explained how I live in NC, how I'll be home on Saturday and I thought I would be visiting the cemetery on Saturday. 

He acted with a sense of urgency, letting me know he wasn't certain of the schedule, providing the stone has come in correctly with no errors that perhaps they might be able to place it on Friday. 

Even writing these words the fresh tears flow.  Years in the making, the time, effort, energy of others as well as countless donations, is finally here.  I am old enough and have lived long enough to know not to get my hopes up, but I can hardly contain it.  Will there finally be a visual marker that my children lived and died?     Will people pause at their marker and think of the Mother of those sweet babies, having them 21 years 18 days apart?  Will they think of their Father, wonder if other children were born?

The last time I was there I was still sore from surgery, walking slow, still somewhat numb.  The ground was cold, hard and wet with snow.  I am hopeful for a beautiful sunny day, a happy day.

Whether the headstone makes it there or not, I am really looking forward to spending a few minutes with my babies.