Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Five and the Best Laid Plans

My plan for the day:
family breakfast of fried egg sandwiches
listen to You Are My Little Bird in the morning
plant flowers at his grave
work in Henry's garden today
have cupcakes with friends

This morning Brian stayed in bed after being up late with a feverish Elizabeth. I was leaving early to get Elizabeth to the walk-in hours at the doctors. No family breakfast.

I had a little time to spare, so I went to put the music on and the CD player closed and then opened and wouldn't close again. I fiddled with it for a bit, getting frustrated. No music in the morning.

And then I started to laugh. I don't know why I would think anything would go as planned on this day. Five years ago he was born, a day earlier than planned, and nothing, nothing really went as planned after that.

I ate my fried egg sandwich, much like the one I ate the day he was born. I made one for Kathleen. Brian got up. I got Elizabeth in the car, and turned the music on there.

After seeing the doctor (Elizabeth seemed fine except for that fever), we all went to the cemetery together. As Brian stopped the car, in one of those coincidences or something more, "Peace Like a River" was playing, which was perfect. I often find myself not knowing what to say when we visit Henry's grave. Today I sang "Peace LIke a River' as I worked. Kathleen helped me dig a hole and water. Elizabeth tried to pull up flags. Brian blew bubbles.

Despite oppressive heat, I spent much of the day in Henry's garden, as I did last year. I loosened soil and weeded heavily and split and moved plants. I still need to add compost and transplant a few things and add a few things from some sweet friends who know that is what I do for his birthday.

We had dinner and cupcakes with our friend who asked so earnestly that first winter " 'Enry 'ome?" and his sister who had promised to help Henry on the bus his first day of school.

That's what a fifth birthday looks like here, for now. Five. My boy would be five.


  1. Oh Henry, you are missed. I remember when I first read about you on Carol's blog. I will always remember you.

  2. that is a perfect song to sing ...remembering with you. love to you and your henry!

  3. So much love to you and your family, Sara. It's still surprising and lovely and sometimes even funny, the way life goes on. This post captures that so well, but what makes this beautiful is the way your love for Henry shines through in all those little moments. Missing Henry with you.

  4. I caught a glimpse of Henry's red flowers as I drove by the cemetery today, and I've been thinking of him - and you, Brian, and your girls - so much the past few days. Lots of love to you...

  5. Much love to you, Sara. There is something so healing for me to dig in the earth. I feel like it grounds me, literally, and if Lucia wasn't born in December, I would spend the day in a garden for her. It just feels good to tend to something for her. With love, as always. And remembering Henry with you on his birthday.

  6. Thinking of you and your dear son on his birthday... lovely that you could spend time in his special place and share this time together as a family too. I always find so much peace when I visit where Gabrielle is buried. Love to you always xoxo

  7. Oh dearest Henry. You are so very missed. I'm glad that your little friend and his sister were there. I'm so terribly that she won't be helping Henry on to the school bus.

  8. I am so late, but sending you love even still. Happy birthday, darling boy. You are so loved and missed. So very. Love to you, today and always.