Now there’s a question I never thought I’d have to ask. Let alone twice. And yet, here we are. Today, we will be joined by our close family and friends for a small service to honor the lives we wish our twins would have had. The lives we wish we’d be able to give and share with them. The lives we wish they would have been able to experience.
Today they will be buried in that awful small casket, wrapped in a crypt that resembles those tiny styrofoam coolers you see at the grocery store. An image I’m haunted by each summer when they’re on display. They will be buried together as to always be with one another. And they will be buried next to their sister, but not with their sister as apparently there are rules about numbers of bodies to a grave…no matter how small. File that under facts you wish you never needed to know.
We are grateful to my uncle who will lead the service, saying the appropriate Hebrew prayers. Although he may as well be speaking Klingon for all that those words will mean to us, and the beliefs we have in what he’s saying and the prayer book it is coming from. I envy those who have such a strong belief, for ours is shot. Perhaps forever.
The sun is shining and from the window, it looks like a beautiful day. Yet from our insides, the pain couldn’t be worse. The day darker. And the mood more sour. I don’t know how we’re going to have the strength to make it through this. Sure, we’ve done it before, but perhaps it was because we thought we would never have to be in this situation again. Here we are. Here we go. Not for us, but for our children because it is the least—and perhaps only—thing we can do for them now.