Today I was out running errands with the kids and we happened to drive by the cemetery where our son Carson is buried. (Carson did not make it full term. He was still born but we count him as ours. We believe he is part of our family and we will have him in the next life.)
As we drove past the cemetery, I mentioned to the kids that he was buried there and they asked if we could stop and go to his grave. So, after we finished our errands we dropped by the house and cut some fresh tulips to put on his grave and Lisa's (Rob's first wife) grave. This is the first time I'd taken the kids to his grave. They've always had lots of questions about him but they'd never been there before. I guess that's because we don't focus so much on the grave. We know he isn't in there. We believe he is with his Heavenly Father.
Anyway, back to my story. We got to the graves and the kids each put the flowers on the graves. Then we stayed and just kind of took in the moment. I answered their questions. They both told me they missed Carson. Then without any warning, Jonathon started to cry. I mean really cry. He started bawling his eyes out. I asked him what was wrong and all he would say was that he missed Carson. He had tears streaming down his face and his nose was running. I picked him up and tried to comfort him but he wouldn't stop crying. I told I believed everything happened the way it was supposed to happen and that Heavenly Father needed to keep Carson with him. I told him if he hadn't decided to keep Carson I might not have him or Carly because I would have had a baby when they were born and the timing wouldn't have been right. Even that did not stop his mournful cries. I got them back in the van and drove home and he cried loudly the whole way home still saying out-loud that he missed Carson. I asked him if he had known Carson before he came here and he said, "Yes."
My little guy for all of his energy and at times orneriness can be so close to the spirit. He has done this same thing in missing his Grandpa D. -- and he was only 2 months old when he died. Now he has seen pictures of his Grandpa holding him but there is no way he could have direct memories of him. Yet, he talks about him and cries for him with genuine love. Sometimes I wish I could peel back the corners of his little mind to see just what he really knows and remembers!