Brody was cremated today. I remember giving him raspberry kisses on his tummy. I remember giving him baby massages after his bath. That soft, squishy little body I cuddled and cared for is now a pile of ash.
I wanted so badly for his body to be donated to others, but I don’t think that was possible. I told the doctors to at least use his eyes. He had such striking eyes. Surely they could help someone else see. I’m too scared to ask now if they were able to.
But there were also many moments to enjoy today. We received bouquets and pastries and lasagnas and donuts and sincere, meaningful texts, emails and cards.
Our house was full of family. My sister-in-law had a date with Bryson. My brother and I took a walk to the park with our sons who are only 12 days apart.
There were moments today when I thought, if I can just focus on how good life is and not on how good I thought it was going to be – then it doesn’t seem so bad. I felt a bit guilty for those thoughts. I can’t explain why.
It’s still very hard to think about Brody’s full beauty and his potential. I allow myself to forget at times to protect myself from despair. But I know that I always want to remember everything about him, and that I can think of how he is thriving now in Heaven.
Tonight, my husband and I got into bed and I said, “I’m still here. You’re still here.” And he said, “Bryson’s still here. And Brody’s not far away.”