THE WIND PHONE
Saying Goodbye For Now
My son’s funeral…four years later
Last weekend, my husband and I held a funeral for my son, who died at birth in August 2020. It was just the two of us at a nearby lake, spreading our son’s ashes and talking to him together. It was beautiful and tender and sad and painful all at once. It was also comforting and felt like an end of sorts.
My husband and I drove up together. I made little jokes, played some podcasts,, and tried to make small talk and laughter. My husband drove and engaged as best he could. As we got to our destination, about an hour away, I said to my husband, “I don’t know if I can do this. Then he will really be gone.”
My husband's response was the most comforting thing he could have said. “He will be part of the Earth and the air and the ground and the trees and the rainbows now.”
We knew it was the right time. We were on the exact same page.
We stepped out onto the sandy side of the lake and found what we deemed the perfect spot for our son to leave us. We opened the bag, and some ashes flew, which was funny and beautiful. We spread some in the water, which was heartbreaking as I wasn’t prepared to see larger pieces and know they were my baby's bones. Still around four years later. We also saved a couple spoonfuls to bring home and place in my favorite indoor plant. No one knows about this besides he and I.
My husband and I sat on a bench and clung to each other just as we did when our baby died four years earlier. We cried and spoke. I couldn’t stop the tears or sobs. My body remembers everything. My heart remembers it all. My soul will never forget.
My husband then spoke right from his inside to our son. It was the most emotional and open, and raw chat I have heard from him to our baby ever. It brought me such pain and love at the same time. It connected me to my husband in a way I never knew.
This all was healing in so many ways.
We then walked along the lake for a while and decided to head for some lunch. There were still ashes slowly flowing, and larger pieces of his remains we could see from our car. We left sadly but calmly.
At lunch, I began to cry and said I needed to go back, and my husband responded with a simple “Okay, let’s go.” And that’s what we did.
I slowly descended the hill to the sandy area and looked at the remaining ashes and bits. I picked a couple up and threw them. Then I plunged my warm hand into the freezing cold water and shook it back and forth vigorously. I plunged it into the sand to mix it all up and make it all be gone. For now.
I walked back to the car, and we left. We are different parents than we were four years ago. Our son’s funeral brought a sense of closure we never felt and a sense of renewal in our relationship we needed for a long time.
We both lost our baby. We are both grieving. We are both his parents. And we both need to live life. Because life is for the living and death is for the dead.
Bye, for now, Baby Boy.
