Mercies V

The heat blasted me as we walked out of Kathy's house on the way to Will's funeral, Saturday, May 22.  I had not really been outside much that whole week.  When we left Kansas City on Tuesday, it was around 50 degrees.  Will's Funeral Day, though, the air felt to be about 90. 
   That morning, I felt like I was in a dream.  A flashback to 2006...sitting in Kathy's living room...waiting to leave for my child's funeral. 
    Hannah was not cooperating at all.  So different from the last time--she was only a couple days old when we had her twin, Charity's,  funeral. This day, on Will's day, Hannah did not want to get dressed.  She hid herself in the blankets on the bed where Reid and I had been sleeping.  I set out 3 dresses and told her that if she didn't put one on, we'd take her to the funeral in a blanket.  I wasn't kidding.
    When it came time to go, Hannah had composed herself and was dressed.  I was really glad to not have to take a child to her baby brother's funeral....wearing a blanket. :-)
     When we arrived at the funeral home, our friends from KY were already there.  Such a comfort to see them and cry on their shoulders.  Our doula/midwife assistant arrived a bit later.  We hugged.  Tears came again.  She had been there when Charity died, too.  Oma, Opa, Kathy, David...all of us quietly filed into the chapel.
      Kathy had compiled a slideshow that we displayed on the little table where Will's small green heart-shaped box sat.  A collection of mementos--the baby afghan Annie made for him, other photos from the hospital--shared the table with Will's remains. 
    After a while, we all sat.  Reid had passed out slips of paper with Scripture references written down.  We began to read them in order, one person at a time.  I did not take a slip.  I knew I couldn't read.
   Annie and Meg had each contributed passages that had been a comfort to them since Will died.  It was such a blessing to me to hear all the different voices reading God's Word.    Deep voices, quiet voices, young voices, Grandma voices, Grandpa voices...strong voices, weak voices...I felt a sense of, "We're in this together."
   Obviously, the loss was more personal and intense to our family, but to know that others shared that sense of loss--that others hurt with and for us--made the day survivable. 
   There were many others who wanted to be there.  I got a series of text messages from my brother that day, saying I was on his mind...he was thinking of me.  I appreciated those notes.
    Friends from around the country...family from around the world...had sent encouragements our way....said prayers...wept for us.
   It was a day to gather and remember.
It was Will's Day.