I can't even imagine...

"I will never forget this awful time, as I grieve over my loss. Yet I still dare to hope when I remember this: The faithful love of the Lord never ends! His mercies never cease. Great is His faithfulness; His mercies begin afresh each morning. I say to myself, “The Lord is my inheritance; therefore, I will hope in Him!” The Lord is good to those who depend on Him, to those who search for Him. So it is good to wait quietly for salvation from the Lord."

~ Lamentations 3:20-26

Day 27: My little bit of happy - visiting Caleb's grave after being kept away for a whole week.

I try, but I can't.

I close my eyes and I try to imagine him alive in my arms. The warmth of him. The smell of him. The silkiness of his head. His breath against my neck.

But I can't. The essence of him elludes me. He died too soon. He died before I could feel enough of his movements to identify his personlity. He died before the brand new hair follicles on his head began to sprout hair. He never felt the fullness of air in his lungs. His voice never rang out to announce discomfort or pleasure. I never held him to my breast while he drank his full before passing out in a milk coma. He never curled his toes as I stroked his foot or wrapped his hand around my finger.

Who are you sweet boy? Are you hyper and outgoing or calm and laid back? Is your hair blond or brown, with a hint of red like your sister? Are you a snuggler or do you prefer to be left alone? How long would your eyes stay blue? Would people have commented on what a big moose of a boy you were, or would you be small? Which one of your big brothers would you have idolized, following and copying their every move?

I can't even imagine these things.

When I close my eyes and think of Caleb all I get are memories of a tiny boy with cold, clamy, fragile skin. Open unseeing eyes, and a gaping mouth. The most perfect hands and feet you've ever seen on arms and legs with amazingly defined muscles. Brand new eyebrows and brand new hair folicles. A snowy white line where he'd been choked by his cord - that which brought him life also brought him death.

And he was cold. He was so cold. And oddly enough, even being at room temperature, his body just kept getting colder. During our time at the hospital he was never refridgerated. His body sat in the room just as ours did, unprotected in the open. We never wrapped him up until it was time to go. I just couldn't. I didn't want the blanket to cling to him (turns out it never did - I think the liquids from his body in the blanket kept him from sticking to it) but more than that I wanted to see every bit of him.

Every part of him was so perfect and marvelous I just couldn't cover any of them up!

And then my mind moves to Heaven. I wonder what his glorified body is like. I wonder who he has met. I wonder if he knows how loved and missed he is. I saw a quote recently that said, "Lord, I wanted to take my son on my knee and tell him about You. Since I can't do that, will You please tell him about me?!" Does Jesus walk with Caleb Enoch? Does He tell him about the family here who misses him? Does he know about the mommy who loves him so fiersly?!

I know this: the Creator of the Universe holds my son in His hands. Hands that are so big that they carry me too.