Payphone

I numbly, yet gingerly, eased myself up into Josh's SUV that night.  Breathing my first fresh air in 2 weeks.  It was cold out for the end of May in Boston.  Yet the cool air only registered in a far off part of my brain.  As my discomfort from the c-section did.  Somehow my bags and belongings were loaded into the back of our car.  Either by Josh or the kind valet who had been notified of what happened just 1 hour ago.

I was sitting in the front seat this time, with no baby in the car to soothe and stare at on the ride home from the hospital that time.  A blue box of Ethan's things lay on my lap.  That's all we will ever have of him.

Josh started the car and the radio came on.  I hadn't heard music for 2 weeks.  That overplayed Maroon 5 song Payphone.  It's ingrained in my mind.

That song played all summer of 2012.  And I cried often when it came over the radio.  Occasionally I didn't.  But the sadness always accompanied that song.  Lyrically it is about a relationship - yet parts of it apply to grief.

                          If happy ever after did exist.
                          I would still be holding you like this.
                         
The other day Payphone came on the radio again.  This time a smile.  That's right.  A slight smile.  Yes, I was brought right back to that tragic night.  But not immediately to the tragedy.  But to the beauty of Ethan.  To my son and the one time I held him.

Ethan, draw me into your beauty.  Allow your beauty to overshadow the tragedy of your death.  Your life is bigger than your death.  Help me to feel that as May approaches.