Don't get me wrong. My heart is healed and strengthened by the small heartfelt mementos that I find at Jonah's grave. They are evidence to me that you have visited my sweet boy and that you still think of him. I hope to continually find beautiful little treasures when I visit Jonah's spot.
But there is something so fleeting about the gifts I bring. I see how they are worn and weathered from one visit to the next. The pinwheels are covered with grass clippings and spin more slowly each day. The little toys gradually lose their bright color in glare of the sun. Even the most vibrant flowers wilt and die. Each item I bring sends a subtle message that death is persistent and inescapable. I've decided that I do not need more reminders. I want instead to create a memorial that will last; one that will withstand the eroding forces of time.
This is the memorial I want to give my precious Jonah. The lasting gift I can give him is the choice to live a good and abundant life. I want to climb more mountains. I want to see the beauty that surrounds me. I want to spend more joyful and peaceful moments with his amazing father. I want the joy I felt in being Jonah's mother to radiate into my new life.
At the end of our arduous day, after scarfing down pizza, we went to visit Jonah's grave. I sat in the cool green grass while Jordan washed and swept the letters of Jonah's name. We admired the sweet and simple gifts that were left in memory of our little boy. We brought nothing tangible with us, but carried a feeling of genuine love for each other and for him. And when we left I took the beautiful flowers that decorated his grave with me, to plant in our garden as a living reminder of our beautiful Jonah.
Our little mountain climber