life is good

That was to be my next blog post.  I was going to write it on an small island of Puerto Rico.  After a day on a white sandy beach.  Tired from playing in the waves.  Nothing but time.  The Caribbean Sea in front of me.  I was going to sit in front of a computer and type out the latest.

I dedicated last week to getting my house ready to go.  Writing up and planning the kids schedule for the babysitters.  Shopping for food and packing.  Reading review after review about what we should do when we were down there.  After a week of prep and anxiety (this is the first trip I've had major doubts about), Friday night I was ready to go.  It finally sounded fun.  Our plane was to leave at noon Saturday.

Saturday at 6:15am the phone woke us up.  Too early.  Maybe my sister had her baby!  My sister who has had to put her oldest boy through chemotherapy is getting another boy!  My sister who loves her babies in a way I never understood.  The sister I talk to almost every day.  She was scheduled to have a c-section near the end of my trip (yesterday).  I was planning on being home by the time she left the hospital.

Josh hopped out of bed to get the phone, then handed it to me.  It was indeed Sonja.  But she was crying.  "They told me I'm going to have a stillborn.  There is no heartbeat."

And so, later that day she delivered her beloved little boy.  We got to see her before the surgery, and not long after.  We got to hold her little baby's body.  He was beautiful.  Daniel Robert Blodgett. 

Life is good?  Absolutely.  I think this is the biggest reason I am so incredibly sad.

At church on Sunday I wanted only to cry.  After the first hour I walked home though our park.  Yellow leaves dotting the pathway like petals thrown before a bride.  I looked up in the sunshine to a brilliant blue sky as a warm breeze rushed through my skirt.  The skirt that moves so beautifully around the ankles.  The trees were shedding, and in front of me the skinny leaves were spinning rapidly from high up down to the ground.   I jumped to grab them with my hands in a game similar to catching snowflakes on your tongue.  If anyone would have been watching, they would have been quite amused.  But I was alone.  In the middle of all of fall's beauties.  And although I admit to being easily overcome during this kind of an encounter, I was especially stricken at that moment.  Could there be a better heaven?   Baby Daniel will not be here with us to enjoy this kind of day. 

His graveside service was today.  It snowed and hushed the world around us as we said goodbye.  "The heavens are crying" I told her kids as I drove them to the mortuary to see their brother for the last time.  "Crystallized tears" Steven (an incredible mind) added, looking out the window.

Yes, I wish I was on a beach today.  But not because I care at all about the beach, but because if I was there it would mean Daniel would be here, and this horrible week would not have happened.

 Life is good.  And so terribly heartbreaking.

Daniel's siblings

my sweet sister

crystallized tears