School starts early September and in my heart I know it's time to let Jude go by spreading his ashes.
It still feels surreal that I type that. My daughter and son, died, and I have to plan a service for them. Is this my life?
Brinly is buried in a mass grave the hospital does for free for babies lost before 20 weeks. I quickly agreed to that because at the time my whole focus was on the live baby, Jude. When he died, they asked if I wanted them cremated together. I said no. For some reason, they left this world at different times, it didn't bother me they wouldn't be buried together. I'm still ok with that.
At first I wanted nothing to do with the ashes. The whole thing scared me and made me feel creepy and weird. My mother in law took care of the whole ordeal and found a cemetery where you could sprinkle them in a garden. However, I panicked at that idea to and asked her to hold on while I sorted through the insane sadness and blurry grief storm I was in.
There is a part of me that doesn't want to spread them. It's weird, I don't even have/want them in my house. Pouring out the box is kind of over, the last time in this lifetime that I hold my son, even though we all know he has been in heaven for almost a year. Someone suggested pouring out half, but we don't do that with bodies? I just feel sad about it all. But then I think that this might be a big step in the healing process. Letting go. Saying goodbye with my family with me. Allowing myself to go there-the deepest darkest saddest places that linger in my soul that I try to forget about. To weep yet again for the devastating loss. The unfairness. The pain that I felt. That Jude and Brinly felt.
My mom asked "how do you want the day to go?" I'm not sure. I guess I say goodbye and my family can say anything they want. Then, I asked my mom that maybe our family could say a prayer for us, right there, for healing and peace. For bravery. For courage. For hope again. For redemption.
I've always tried to live my life in a way honoring to God that models His values. But I told my mom-how on earth would anyone want to choose to follow Christ when they witness something like this? I'm a Christian, I asked for a child, I got pregnant with triplets, they all died. From the outside, who would want anything to do with Jesus?? I know I wouldn't. BUT Christ loves redemption. It's not always how we plan it, see it, but over and over and over again He does make things right. I myself have begun to lose hope in that; but of course, I want my story to end with redemption. I still get goose bumps (in a sad way) that days before my water broke I even wrote those lyrics on a decorative board in my house I write quotes on-"let me see redemption win, let me know the struggle ends." It was almost like my heart knew something was up.
All this to say, hopefully end of summer Darren and I will have the courage/strength to do a memorial service for him, for them, for us. And then, take another step towards opening up to building the family.
Lastly, as we work to slowly rebuild our faith, our hope in His goodness, our trust despite things we cannot fathom to understand, Hillsong's Ocean (acoustic version) is my current favorite worship song. I cry every time I hear it. Even though I still struggle to find words to say when I pray, this song helps fill in the blanks. <3