Footprints
Let’s just get this out there…I despise the term “New Normal.” I know a lot of people in the grieving community use this phrase to describe the life ahead of you. For anyone who is living out this “New Normal,” there is absolutely nothing NORMAL about it. Especially when you’ve had to bury your child. It goes against life’s natural flow and progression. It’s NOT normal…and you can tell. You can feel it every single day. This is, however, our NEW life. Our NEW reality. The newness in the phrase is spot on.
I first realized how different my life will be from here on out when I had to come up with something for Owen’s grave. I say that I HAD to, because as a mother there is no other option. I know Owen’s not there. I know his spirit is waiting for us in Heaven. But, if you’ve ever had to bury someone you can relate to what I’m about to say. A fresh gravesite is raw. It’s very symbolic of what’s going on in our hearts. When we laid Owen to rest, there was that fake grass laid out to cover the exposed dirt. Flowers attempted to provide color to a dreary backdrop. All of this is just a lame attempt to disguise what’s really going on. We went back to Owen’s site just a few days later and all there was…was dirt. We had no marker for his site, no headstone, no anything. Those items take time and energy to create.
The flowers that were once sitting on his casket were scattered onto the dirt from the men who put Owen into the ground. Around those flowers were footprints. Footprints from the deer, who were walking through the cemetery munching on the newest flower displays. I hated those footprints. I know the deer were just doing what comes naturally, but there’s something sickening about seeing animals trample over your child’s grave. I realized then and there that I needed to do something. I couldn’t handle a bare site any longer.
While most parents were doing early Christmas shopping, I was planning how to design a wreath for my child’s grave. I asked my mom to help me. This was no task a grieving mother could handle on her own. As I began walking down the Christmas aisles in Flower Factory, I froze. In a crowded store, I began to cry. In a suffocating wave, the tears were coming and I was powerless to stop them. This is not natural. This is not normal. This is not what I should be doing. I should be in the toy aisles, or the baby aisles Christmas shopping for my son. Not searching for items I can use for his grave. My mom, without skipping a beat, said, “We can do this.” And we did. Call it the determination of a mother and grandmother, but somehow…we did it. We created an adorable little wreath for my baby boy’s grave.
Since then, my husband and I have also purchased a small grave pillow to cover the bare dirt. We have ordered our family headstone and the cement has already been poured for its arrival. The monument company gave us a tiny cross with Owen’s name and dates to stick in the ground in the meantime, which was really important to us. Slowly, Owen’s gravesite isn’t looking so raw anymore. Slowly, our hearts are not feeling so raw either. Don’t get me wrong, it’s been a small change. I miss him more than words can say. My heart physically hurts. I’m walking around with a broken heart, and it feels that way. That feeling is with me every minute of the day. That heaviness. That sadness. That intense love I have for my son consumes every part of me. I can’t escape it. I’m just trying to figure out how to function in the world WITH it.
We went to Owen’s grave Christmas morning. This seemed completely natural for us. I didn’t wake up with gifts on my mind. Like every morning, I woke up with Owen on my heart. As I packed tissues into my coat pockets and bundled up for the outdoors, I realized that visiting our son’s grave is another part of our “New Normal.” Our NEW life. Our NEW reality. On our short drive to the cemetery, I thought of all the families still in their pajamas. Wrapping paper strewn on the floor, bows still sticking to the paper. I thought of bed head, smiling faces, hot coffee, and stockings filled with chapstick, gum and a handful of candy canes. Everyone experiencing the “traditional” Christmas morning with their families. We were the only people in the world heading to a cemetery.
I got out of the car, and I saw them. Footprints. Not animal footprints this time…but human ones. Because of the fresh snowfall the day before, I could tell that those footprints were fresh as well. I looked up to see cars parked along the cemetery streets as other families were visiting their loved ones on Christmas morning, too. We’re not the only ones missing someone today. As we walked down the aisle to Owen’s spot, I passed a site that had been visited by a family. There were footprints. Big…and small. As I thought ahead to this tradition being a part of our holiday season for years to come, I looked down at where we were standing and saw our footprints. Footprints for two. If I truly believe that God will give me the desires of my heart, then there will be additional footprints by Owen’s grave someday. There may be footprints for two right now, and I don’t know how those little footprints will get there. Or when.
But you see, I have a mother’s heart now, and I am holding onto the truth that My God is GOOD. My God LOVES me. And My God KNOWS about my pain and CARES about the desires of my heart…my desire to be a mom. For now, we’re figuring out how to keep on living a life full of footprints for two.