We dedicated your tree today, bean. It was a glorious day, full of sunshine, warmth, the support of family and friends. And your memorial could not have been more perfect.
The thing is, I love your name. Unabashedly, wholeheartedly, enthusiastically love your name. We may have given you the short end of the stick when it came to genes, my love, but I think we gave you a name to match the perfection of today's blue skies. And while I was a skeptic about having a place where we could go and commemorate your life - that was more your daddy's thing - I will forever be grateful that your name has been carved in stone for time immortal.
Your tree is also beautiful. I look forward to smelling the heady perfume of magnolia blossoms come springtime. I always wanted to dress you in girly things, little one, and magnolias are about as feminine as trees come. It's broad leaves will give you shade and flower petals will clothe you in beauty, year after year.
Although it cannot be captured in photos, your tree is in the corner of a lovely garden, at the edge of a steep grassy hill, surrounded by benches, and across from the cheerful burbling of a large koi pond. This was your brother's favorite part of the garden, and he spent most of his time there tickling the fish with a large leaf from your tree, giggling as they responded to the movement.
For such a short existence, you touched many lives, little bean. It was clear from the number of friends who were there to lay roses beneath your tree. From the hugs and tears from stranger, staff and volunteers from hospice, moved by the story of the little baby who never made it home.
There's a gorgeous full moon outside tonight. I'm wishing I could share it with you, Harper girl. Hopefully your stone is glowing silver in its light.
I am glad that we'll have a beautiful place to visit with you, to show Shea when he's old enough to understand. But, in all honesty, I would rather have a baby. I really, really miss having a baby.
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