Today I had to do something no human being should have to do. I ordered a gravestone for my son, Greyson. WRONG, WRONG, WRONG. It felt wrong deep in the cells of my heart, soul and body.
But how do I explain that it ended up being a comical but sad situation. I went to the Funeral Man’s home and met with him and his wife. This older couple are local small town people and were good friends of my grandparents. I knew right away something was off. It was obvious they had gussied up for my visit. The wife had heavy clownish old lady make up on and what looked like a wig. When it came time to fill out the forms the Funeral Man had his wife do the writing but she kept making mistakes and having to cross things out. She would get a little flustered but Funeral Man kept gently correcting her and insisting that she keep going with it. I thought maybe she was hard of hearing. There ended up being quite a few cross outs and I won’t be surprised if the stone says, “Gary son of Peggy” or something instead of Greyson P. Son of Paige.
Greyson P son of Paige –what heartrending words to have to write on a cold stone.
WRONG, WRONG, WRONG.
It will NEVER feel right to see those words on a stone above my sweet baby boy.
As I was leaving FM stepped outside with me and explained his wife suffered from Alzheimer’s and he tried to involve her in this kind of thing to help with the dementia. I could see then the kindness of this gentle man and I knew the words on the stone marking the grave of my son would be correct and if they weren’t he would make it right.
Neither Dr. AA, who I emailed about trying again nor Dr. H, who’s office I called for a referral to a fetal-maternal specialist, have returned my contacts. I’m trying not to read that as a bad sign or some sort of stupid omen that things won’t go smooth or that I shouldn’t go forward. Which is just a stupid thought from my stupid overdrive brain. It’s just the randomness of the world. Right?
Picture of the Day: