Written in Stone

Spring is almost here so it's time for us to think about buying a marker for Calvin's grave. When we buried him in November, the funeral home informed us that the city would not install any more markers until spring, and they urged us not to buy one until we had some time to think about what we wanted on it. I'm completely at a loss. When my friend John Metzler died in a car accident on his way to the Okanagan to visit me in 94, I remember going to his grave with his mother a couple of months after. What I remember most about that moment was the feeling of "that's it?". His name and date of birth, date of death was all there was and I was incredibly sad. I remember telling Cathie that there should have been more, a monument of some sort, to tell the world how important he was, how much he was loved.

How do I tell the world that Calvin was more than just a six day old infant that died? How do I express in just a few words that he was wanted more than anything by Shane and I, that I have loved him more in six days than many people love in a lifetime? How do I let them know he has two sisters, one his twin, who will miss him growing up? Or that I had dreamed of having a little boy for so long and was convinced it would never happen for me until he came along? How do I tell everyone how perfect he was, how beautiful his little face was, how soft his hair or long his fingers? How do I fit all my hopes and dreams for my son's life into just a few short words? It's not enough, there isn't enough room to express just how much I loved him, all the things I wanted to teach him, how many tears I've cried since losing him. How do I tell the world how important he was, that he was my last chance at giving my husband a son and now he's gone? It doesn't seem fair to sum up his life in less than a sentence when he meant the world to me. In the end, after Shane and I are gone, his marker will be what speaks of our love for him, and I want it to be perfect. And I know it won't be. And it sucks.