Memorial Day & A Special Angel

 I'm not sure how many people are familiar with the book, The Christmas Box, but I will assume that most people know the jist of it. In the book, there's a woman that visits an angel in the middle of a cemetary, mourning the loss of her daughter. In 1994, Richard Paul Evans had an angel statue, The Christmas Box Angel, placed in the Salt Lake City Cemetary. He welcomes families who have experienced the loss of a child to visit the statue and to leave a white flower.

I had known of its existence, but never felt like I had any reason to visit this angel. Until March. Manuel was still doing pipe line patrol, and part of his route took him right by the cemetary so he drove around until he found it. He told me that he would like to go back and bring a white flower. I agreed, but I just couldn't bring myself to commit to a day. It was too painful.

On Memorial Day, we normally go visit 2 cemetaries to bring flowers to 4 of Manuel's relatives, one being his eldest brother that died when he was only 8 years old. This year was different. I asked Manuel if we could visit the Salt Lake City Cemetary and find The Christmas Box Angel. We stopped at The Flower Patch and bought a white flower to lay at the base of the statue. I fought back tears the entire time. I didn't want to be buying a flower to put at the base of an angel. I didn't want to cry. I didn't want to be reminded of the fact that Manuel and I have lost a baby. Our baby. As much as I knew it would hurt, I still felt like I needed to go.

I love Gerber Daisies. They are my most favorite flower. I decided that daisies will forever be for our sweet little baby. It broke my heart to lay that beautiful flower down. Sam was right next to me, trying to figure out what was going on. Especially when he noticed that someone had left a Hot Wheels motorcycle. I had to explain to him that everything near the angel was for a baby or a child that has gone back to Heavenly Father, and that we were leaving a flower there for Boo. (He still refers to them as "Boo and Sully") I knelt next to Sam and cried. I haven't cried for a while, and I thought I was done crying, but the tears came anyway. We're all healing, but there's still a hole in my heart, and there always will be. Any milestone, or just a quiet moment will remind me of the little baby we never got to meet. I've been trying to get myself to where I accept what has happened, but as I stood there in the cemetary, I realized that you never fully accept what has happened. You can know that Heavenly Father has a plan for you, and that He loves you. You can be grateful and have a stronger testimony of Eternal families. You can even know that your baby is somewhere far better than this earth, and will be taken care of until you are reunited, but I think it's impossible to accept that your baby is not with you. And that's okay. Maybe that's where the acceptance is supposed to come from.

One day not too long ago, I was hit with sorrow all over again. I was sobbing in my bedroom as I picked up a book on mourning that I didn't finish. As I read, I found a beautiful quote from Joseph Smith that has brought me so much comfort.

This is what he said: "The Lord takes many away, even in infancy, that they may escape the envy of man, and the sorrows and evils of this present world; they were too pure, too lovely, to live on earth; therefore, if rightly considered, instead of mourning we have reason to rejoice as they are delivered from evil, and we shall soon have them again. " (History of the Church 4:553)