Friday, October 28, 2011


It's been nearly four years since we buried Henry. It was too late in the year to install a stone and too much to think about one anyway. He's squeezed in at the edge of a family plot, too close to the road, next to Brian's grandfather. It was important to me that he wasn't alone. We didn't have his name added to the family stone (the wording of the relationship seemed to cumbersome and confusing and besides be planned to get him his own stone).

Last November, we drove up to visit my parents and chose a stone, a rough piece of granite, from the yard of a family friend. Last week, my cousin drove it out to us. Now, we are waiting to find out if we are allowed to have a raised stone for him or if it will have to be a flat one. We need to find out if they can carve the stone. We are still fine tuning what we will say. (Last name above first and middle name? First name and middle initial? Months spelled out or in numerals? Is there room for our names, to say son of Brian and Sara?)

Everything about this process takes time. And energy. It is one of those things I want done, but how I struggle to actually takes the steps to do it. I will be relieved when it is done, when his name is there, when I have a place to put whatever it is I bring to the cemetery. Until it is done, I will become weary every time we try to make it happen. I will feel weary and guilty that it has been this long.


  1. The first thing that came to my mind when I read this post was this previous one,

    I think that Henry's grave has one of the most beautiful markers that I know about. I know that his stone will be beautiful too, I know it will have been done with just as much love and care and I hope that it brings you a sense of relief and peace when it is put in place. xp

  2. Catherine, thank you for reminding me of our stone heart. I hadn't forgotten it was there, but I had forgotten it in the context of thinking about his unmarked grave. Your message was a comfort actually, because it reminds me he is not completely unmarked. I do want something up on top so that people can find him, but it does make me feel better remembering that he is not quite abandoned. An ocean away somebody knows my boy is marked with his name and our love. That's something.

  3. These are the hard things to trudge through, I think. The things that make my head and heart just feel heavy. I know the marker will be beautiful, just like that beautiful boy of yours. Like Catherine said, I hope it is a relief and brings peace when it is finished.
    Love to you, friend.

  4. I'm glad you have a stone that you like, and I can imagine how difficult it must be to sort out what to write on it, where and how to carve it. I know that whatever you decide, it will be right, as right as such things can be, but I'm sorry it's so hard and that you have to do these hard things.

    Strangely enough (or maybe not so strange because it's such a beautiful story), I was thinking of Henry's heart, too, under the grass.

    So much love to you.

  5. Sending you love, Sara. Remembering your Henry with you.