We’ve been waiting for news on Leo’s remains. We were told we’d be notified when the Neptune Society had taken possession of his little body.
Today was that day. We received a call about an hour ago and I paid over the phone for him to be treated with dignity and care. Our Funeral Counselor has been trained well. To treat others with compassion. Simply hearing her say “I wanted you to know that we picked up your baby this morning and he’s in our care…” was enough for me to exhale and feel like we’re not the only ones on the planet that knew that he was a baby. OUR baby. And that he was real and his passing has caused deep sorrow and grief.
I know this is part of the process, but, I wept after hanging up the phone. I wept because I was relieved that he was no longer at the hospital and could finally have some sort of rest, some closure. I weep because I am anticipating the next phone call: He’s ready to be picked up.
He’ll be in his permanent home, a tiny little keepsake urn with his name engraved on it: Leo.
It’s a crimson heart, because just like in our hearts, his name will be forever engraved.
XO, Isabel
Isabel, you’ve shown us what someone can do in a situation for which nothing can be done. You’ve involved your caring community by taking us on your painful journey and asking us to respond by being there to listen and empathize.
Translating from the Hebrew: May you go from strength to strengh.
Mina – I want you to know that your words have been so very helpful. Just today I met with two other women with stories just like ours. We wish to do something to help others that are in our shoes or have been or will be. I read your words to them today, because they inspired me so, and I want you to know that they inspired us all. Hazak Hazak V’nitkhazek!
I just read this. I love you.