My son arrived today. My postal carrier gently handed me the box with tears in her eyes and shared how sorry she was. When I thanked her for bringing my son to me, the tears escaped her eyes, and she said she was hoping it was someone else. She never met my son, but she delivered many cards and packages from him over the years.
I’m sitting here now looking at that priority mail box with a big orange sticker on each side that says “CREMATED REMAINS.” Inside that poorly packed box is a black plastic container with a lid that snaps open and closed. And inside that are the ashes of my beautiful boy.
The container weighs a little less than 7 pounds – about the same as he weighed the day he was born.
38 years of a life condensed into a container measuring approximately 8x6x4.
In a few days we’ll listen to voiced memories of his life from those who knew and loved him, pray silently along with the prayer said for everyone, listen to Taps being played and watch as the color guard fold the flag and gently hand it to his wife.
That little black container will be placed into a concrete wall and a bronze plaque placed over the opening. On the plaque will be his name, the dates he was born and died, and whatever sentiment his lovely wife chooses.
That’s it then. That’s all there will ever be.
No more weekly phone calls sharing his life. No more hearing his voice. No more seeing those beautiful blue eyes light up when he talks about his daughter and his wife. No more listening to his laugh or feeling one of his hugs.
I’ve heard him say for the last time, “Hey Ma – I love you.”
Oh Heavenly Father, please don’t let me lose my memories. Don’t let me ever forget that sweet little boy who loved to sit in my lap and listen to stories. Don’t let me forget him riding that big wheel with so much confidence. Don’t let me forget those long talks about any and everything. Don’t let me forget how proud I was at his bootcamp graduation. Don’t let me forget the joy on his face when he introduced me to his wife, or the complete love and adoration he had for her the day they got married. Don’t let me forget his complete happiness when they adopted their sweet little girl. Don’t let me forget the sound of his voice. Oh God, please don’t let me forget a single thing about my son.
Hey Bri – I will always love you!
From Suffering to Praise 