4

The tree, the stone and your description of the day are all beautiful. I hope that Silas's tree grows big and strong. I'm so sorry that you & Lani do not have your son to wrap your arms around.

Thank you so much for posting this! I've found it hard being non religious, I've felt almost jealous of those who could at least be comforted by their faith, and angry at those who try to comfort me with religious words. It's just nice to feel that I'm not alone xxx

we had a very similar backyard ceremony for our son. and i did sometimes wish i were able to believe in something that might make me feel more connected to him, that might allow me to feel i'd see him again someday, but each time my mind danced over that possibility it came up barren and dry...so in a sense his death coalesced my lack of belief, assured me that this was indeed my core inclination.

Your dilemma of emotions over V attaining moksha mirror very closely my own feelings about heaven within my own faith tradition. There is comfort in believing my twins are resting in some form of eternal love, but there is distress in knowing how far that places them from me. Or, at least it feels that way.

I just loved this post. I too am an atheist and feel as though there is something wrong with me when I don't feel comfort by religious cliché-type sentiments. It's very hard at times to try to breathe under the weight of the grief and recover from the shock of the slap of religious platitudes. I personally feel it would do my 'experience' some injustice by resigning it all up to some overlooking-righteous-yet loving and good-bestower of life (for you, but not YOU)and death (oops gotta take YOU back because of my super complex and secret plan)person/entity.

So often I find myself wondering whether or not I will find Sadie in an afterlife that I still don't know if I even believe in. I'm always left only hoping.

Someone just said the same thing to me last week. ["God only makes perfect, so my daughter must not have been perfect and He knew it. That is why he took her."] I am two and a half years out and I still didn't know what to say. What I wanted to say is that if God only makes perfect, how could she be anything but, despite her death.

I am Jewish, but I don't believe our "God" is different. We are all so interconnected, all of us. Our Tikva spoke to us when she was in my belly and asked that we allow her story to unfold. When people asked why I didn't just terminate the pregnancy, I told them that it was not up to me - but rather up to Tikva and God. We were all right - Tikva's short life was a miracle. I wish more than anything that she could have made it, that she could have stayed so much longer.

I paint my face like a calavera. I don't know what I am trying to achieve, making myself look dead, but I do it. I am alone. It feels like I am doing something wrong, and in that way, I am excited. I put a base of white onto my face. It reminds me of high school and listening to the Cure and being a punk rocker. Then I pull out the black face paint crayon and draw a joy there, a swirl here. Some flowers and decorations. I am more beautiful with the mask of death.