The hardest day of my life

Last updated on February 17, 2021

I suppose because it’s always worked out this way with the other funerals I’ve attended, I expected that it would all be better from here on out. I was wrong.

I’ve never been here before. Giving Cassidy up involved going through the grieving process…

SEGUE: Things you never thought you’d say/hear: “Please take my holy water away from the baby.”

… but at least for that first year I could call her mother up and know that she was okay. I don’t have any way to check up on him, and I can’t be comforted by this being my choice.

I knew this was coming, as I mentioned before, and I have never wanted to be wrong so much in my life.

Walking into the circle with his ashes was hard. We broke down for a while before inviting everyone else in. Then Jae gave the service, which was completely beautiful and blissfully short, and then Shelly, Jenn and Dennis all had words to say. I wanted so desperately to say something, but my voice had long since left.

Walking from the circle to the place Kevin and Patrick prepared for the rose bush was even harder. It took all of my strength to lift the box and make my legs carry me back to the house.

Opening the box and pouring his ashes into the hole was the hardest thing I have ever done. I had to dig out the paper tag and the metal tag, and I really broke down when I realized I felt nothing of him in the cremains. Jae sprayed some holy water over his cremains as a brief baptism. Joe sprinkled the plant food over them, and then Kevin put the bush in. I put the first couple of handfuls of potting soil into the whole, then Joe, and then… I don’t remember. The next thing I really was cognizant of was leaning on the car, and the kids putting the rest of the potting soil in, and Joe asking me about if Miles wanted to be a goalie. I said that he couldn’t be a goalie, he’s too skinny, he’d have to be a forward.

And then… there was much talking and sharing and more crying. Lili lost it pretty hard at the circle, and then during the planting, and after the planting, I took her inside to snuggle her for a while. She got a little better, and then Shelly and Kevin’s son Kellen came in and gave Toby a quartz crystal cluster. We’re going to put it in the garden when I get everything where I want it. His sister Maia gave me a sage smudge stick that she made herself, and I know I’ll be using that very soon.

And the rest of the night was kind of a muddled, sad blur. I remember talking, and I remember listening, and I remember laughing at a couple of points, but the lost coherent thing I can describe is talking with Joe as we lay in bed and feeling how close we were right then, how connected we were, and feeling so horrible at being glad for that… hoping that this is not what it would take for us to come together the next time.

There was more I’d want to write, but right now, I think I’ll close and just say… again, Thank You for all the love and support and energy you’ve all sent. I know it’s made a difference. Just as much as it seemed that the morphine and Fentenol (sp) didn’t seem to help with the delivery, I can’t imagine how much worse it would have been without it. I feel pretty much the same way about the prayers and blessings we’ve been sent: yes, this is hell, my worst nightmare come to life, but I can’t imagine how much worse it would be if I didn’t belong to such an amazing and loving community.

Dawn Written by:

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