Just so much emotion right now.
My son would be 24 this year!
Would he have served a mission, graduated college, be married? Where has 24 years gone?
I try to tell myself I'm just 24 years closer, that doesn't really help.
Early this morning I had the following memory, I don't know why and it still stings:
Ricky died with no notice, it took over 24 hours to find out and deliver him. Riddled with exhaustion and sorrow I held him for a very short time in delivery. The next 24 hours were filled with that same exhaustion and sorrow. I was offered to hold him again, each time I would gently refuse. I don't know how are supposed to act when you son dies before delivery! I don't know how to handle this, I'm 22!
While I lay in the hospital, Rick and my Mother had to go buy the casket and things for the October 30th burial. I wasn't in my right mind, I didn't even think to put him in a nice outfit.
In my mind, I thought I'd see him before burial, I thought I'd see him before the casket was closed. Maybe then I would have known he wasn't dressed appropriately, maybe then I would have wrapped him in something beautiful and warm.
When I asked to see him, my hopeful heart was trampled with, "I'm sorry, he was not prepared for viewing".
Wow, just wow...
The pain of that memory is like a ton of bricks, which still shows up to crush me.
