Grief leveled me like a tidal wave this morning. I woke up in the pre-dawn light after a night of terrible, terrible dreams. In one, a life flight helicopter crashed into the top of the hospital. The NICU, PICU, and Labor and Delivery were devastated, burning. No one could get out. Nearby, the hospital was hosting a gala event to raise money, and even though the hospital was burning, and children were dying, the gala went on.
I woke up sometime in the night, maybe 4am, and I couldn’t remember where James was. Jim was in bed with me. We were together. James should be here too. My mind frantically went over and over the last weeks of his life – home, the hospital. Where was he? Where was he? I finally remembered and drifted back into a fitful sleep.
When I woke around 7am in the chill grey light, I became convinced that James’s grave had been disturbed by animals. I bundled up in a heavy jacket, scarf, hat, and boots, and went to his grave. It was quiet, undisturbed, the rainbow roses on top frozen. I sat beside him there and I talked to him. I told him how much I missed him. I told that I was sorry, that daddy and I tried really hard, and I was sorry that we couldn’t save him. I told him that I loved him.
It is a comfort to have him so close. Tonight, we are going to have a fire in the fire pit next to his grave, and we will make S’mores, and we will talk about James.