I had honored a woman who meant the world to me on this beautiful spring day surrounded by friends and family. We had laughed and shared stories. We had wept and embraced. Hours and hours had passed and we were at the very last moment of the day. I was completely spent, exhausted in a way that only such an emotionally draining experience can create.
It was time to say a final goodbye. Her ashes had been lowered into the strangely small hole. Everyone had laid their carnations on the spot that would be her final resting place. The crowd was dispersing and I quietly made my way to her grave to have a final moment alone.
I crouched over the spot. Tears finally falling freely and I shared some private words with the woman who was my Nan. I was alone and strangely felt very young and vulnerable.
Without looking up, I felt a presence and the warmth of a small arm stretch to wrap itself around me and the gentle pressure of a small body pressing into mine.
"Mommy, are you sad?" asked my gentle hearted and caring youngest son.
There he stayed, whispering endearments and words of comfort as only an eight year old can. "Mommy we will really miss her, won't we? She loved us very much Mommy. Are you still sad?" Finally sitting in silence, he held me close.
And then he began to weep along with me, and I in turn wrapped him in my arms and comforted my son. Together in our grief sharing tears for a woman who loved us, and whom we loved.
It was a moment I will never forget and I was oblivious to the fact it was being caught on film by a dear friend who recognized the beauty in the moment. My son, who loved me enough to join me in my grief and share his own with me. My son, who loves me and wants to be with me in my loss. My son, who I comfort and protect and love for the gentle boy he is. My precious, precious Caden.