Dear Jocelyn

June somethingtowardstheend, 2012


Dear Jocelyn,

So much has happened lately. It's too much to keep up with even. I feel like so much of your story is missing.
So I'm going to just recap the last couple of weeks for you.

We did a lot in preparation for your burial. We chose a stone to mark your "grave". I fucking hate that word. I know you aren't there. I considerate really more of a memorial.
We went the day before your service to finalize the plans. I took the box that contained your ashes. I held it tightly against my chest as we rode from the funeral home to the cemetery. When we arrived, I laid the box, your box, gently in the burial vault. I tucked a letter from your Aunt Liz on one side and a letter from me and Daddy on the other. I put a piece of Katie's blanket in there. (A gift from your Aunt Susan from the blanket set that Katie was buried with.)
A picture from your Aunt Mal of her and Jude (she wrote you a sweet message on the back) and  a pair of tiny camo socks. I included Jude's blue crinkle elephant, his favorite toy from when he was a baby. It would have surely been among your first round of inherited toys. Now it sleeps with you. A small silver cross from your Maw Maw and Paw Paw.
And then I laid a piece of Daddy's baby blanket (affectionately known in our house as "Blue Blankie") gently over the top of the box.
Then I took the glue and traced along the seal of the vault. And I closed it tightly. Securely.
I took care of you. I couldn't feed you. Or rock you. Or bathe you. But I could do this. And so I did.
I cried, but calmly so. It felt oddly right. A mother, simply caring for her new daughter.

June 16, 2012

We buried your box and vault that we filled with words and items of love. We had a small and beautiful service for you. Your Great Aunt Linda led the service. She cried fearlessly. And she smiled sincerely. And it was perfect.
You are so loved. I know I've said it a million times already, but I just want you to know.
We love you. Always have. Always will.

June 24, 2012

We went to the beach this weekend. I thought of you every second. I was afraid to leave town at first, because I didn't want to miss a day of visiting the cemetery. (I sent someone very special in my place.)
I was scared that being so far from home. Afraid that I wouldn't feel you there. I'm so afraid to not feel you.
I was told that you'd be present with me. That I just had to keep my eyes open and look. That I would see you, feel you.
And I did. And you were there. You were in the waves, in the sunrise, even in the board game laughter. You were with me. You are with me. I'm sorry I forget that sometimes.