CJ is burried in our church cemetery. It is pretty much what you picture when you hear those words- just a few acres of land on the edge of town. We choose it because... Well, it's home. It has a small prayer grotto in the back corner by CJ where prayer services are held, and a big wooden cross in the middle. Huge old trees line the perimeter as well as the circle drive through the property. It's very quiet there. Only a few times have I seen another visitor while I am there. Wandering through we have found several graves from the early 1900s too weather to even read. There's history, and the love of our church community there. No sprinkler system (old water pumps for hauling buckets for your flowers.) No big monuments or mausoleums. There is beauty in it's simplicity.
When the weather was warmer, I used to come sit at his grave in the grass shaded by a big oak tree. Trying to find the right words with a broken heart is never easy. So I would simply plead. I would beg with all my soul to God for a sign that my little boy was ok. I would tell CJ that I know he's ok, but mommy needs a sign. And I would sit and wait.
While waiting and frustrated one day, I noticed a small little owl in that oak tree. That just infuriated me! That damn owl better not be eating CJ's flowers or pooping on him! I wanted that scrappy bird GONE! We are talking crazy bereaved mom willing to buy a gun GONE!
Then to my dismay, he was there the next time I came. This time I noticed him watching me as intently as I was watching him. Why the hell was this owl bothering me? "Not funny,God" was constantly going through my mind.
As time passed, I started to look for scrappy little bird on my visits. I was beginning to become disappointed if he wasn't there.
Around Halloween there was a chilly day I remember very clearly. The grass was wet, but my heart was heavy so I grabbed a chair from my trunk. I sat the quietly wishing I had answers. My little owl appeared above me. I remember looking at him and wondering if I looked as worn as he did. He looked weathered, like life had taken a toll. He was rumpled and tattered. Yet his demeanor was calm. As if the hardest winds could blow, and he would stand firm. This scrappy little owl was determined to keep me company.
In an instant I saw him through new eyes. The eyes of a mother who held her lifeless child, seeing beauty in his tattered appearance. Feeling appreciation for his company and wonder in his reappearance each time I visited.
And so my collection began. Placing owls quietly around the house to remind me of CJ. Ever present, always watching over us. What a beautiful image.
The reality of our situation is too painful to explain. Having an object of symbolism gives us a bit of strength in keep CJ alive in our home. His pictures are right next to his sisters and always will be. But those extra little owls make us smile around every corner.
#doitforcj
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