The thing I remember most vividly was how many people were there. I wondered how I could ever explain to everyone who came to the funeral how grateful I was that they did. There were so many people, many of whom came from very far away, that in my hour of deepest sorrow, I was also profoundly thankful.
Even while I was still in the hosptial, one of the things that I was most afraid of was losing all our friends, too. I didn't want people to not be around us because they didn't want to feel uncomfortable. To be honest, it's likely how I would have felt if it had been one of my friend's baby instead of ours. It's hard to imagine that losing our sweet son could have been any worse, but the truth is: it could have been. Instead of just crazy, we could have been crazy and alone.
The second thing I often think about was the indescribable way that God held our broken hearts in his hands. When I was afraid of being alone, He sent friends in abundance. When nothing anyone said/brought/did could bring back our little boy, our loving heavenly Father gave us hope.
To everyone who came, brought us dinner, sent flowers, e-mailed, sent a card, dropped by, went to the grocery store, vacummed or did one of countless other things to help us, I am more thankful than I can describe. When the world had come to an end, you helped us keep going.
