As I was going to bed tonight, I stopped in front of our entertainment center to tell Cameron goodnight and to give his urn a little kiss as I usually do.
My attention then went to his scrapbook that my wonderful "Turkey" girls had made for us. I opened it and looked at every single page once again. I love looking at it. It takes my breath away, it gives me chills, and it never fails to bring tears to my eyes when I open it.
It just got me thinking how absolutely amazing these people in my life are. They have done more for me by remembering Cameron than my own family has. And by family, I mean grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. My parents and my brothers have been absolutely amazing! They've never forgotten him for a second, and they always remember special dates.
It just warms my heart to look at those pictures, and to know that on that one day, they all took a minute out of their day to remember my sweet little boy. From my oldest brother bringing flowers to me, and sitting with me, crying with me, as we talked about Cameron and how fragile life on Earth really is, to my youngest brother remembering to release balloons in Brazil while visiting his girlfriend. It's all just amazing.
I picked up his urn after going through the book again and I squeezed that thing like I was holding on for dear life. I kissed it, I rubbed it on my cheek, and then I got that every too familiar crushing feeling in my chest. The one that makes you gasp for a quick breath.You all know what I'm talking about. (what is that anyway?)
Part of me wanted to open it. But I don't think I ever will again. I've only ever opened it once. It was shortly after he passed. I was sitting at my dinning room table, and I unscrewed the lid. I don't know why, but part of me was scared to death. Then I just sat there and stared at the white ashes. It took my mind a bit to process what I was looking at. And then I actually stuck my fingers in there and pinched a bit of the ashes between my thumb and index finger. I brought them out and sprinkled them in my palm. I then swirled them around until they had all but absorbed into my own skin. Kind of how talc powder does. I can honestly look back and say that I have absolutely no clue why I did any of that. But I did, and for some reason, it made me feel better for half a second. Is that weird?
There are just so many emotions involved in this. For a few minutes I was elated - I was happy that my little man is remembered. And then I stare at Cameron's urn, and realize that's all I have left of him. That's the only way I get to hold him...in the palm of my hand. That tiny, beautiful, cold little urn. That's my baby...