Boogers on the Wall

There’s something about the beach that draws me near to heaven and my little one who is waiting for me there. 

Our family has been to San Clemente, California, three times since I buried my baby in April 2010, and each time I could have sworn he was right beside me sitting on the sand.

I can’t explain it and can’t put my finger on why it happens there.

I know it’s not the wetness of the water. I rarely dip my toes in. It’s always too cold and slimy for me. And it’s definitely not the sand. After an afternoon on the beach I’m crawling with the itchy stuff and can’t brush it off fast enough.

Maybe it’s the vastness of the ocean that makes me feel like a tiny speck on this planet and helps me put things into perspective. Or the cadence of the waves that methodically reminds me that my life here is but a small moment – a blink of an eye.

Both confirm to me the existence of a higher plan. That life is much more than my mortal journey.

Both help me find a tiny piece of comfort in the loss of my baby boy. The beach revives a sense of trust I have in my Maker and my commitment to him.

I’ve got to find a way to make it back to California regularly. The feeling is so peaceful there I wish I could bottle it up in a seashell and take it home with me.

I finally decided I had to know the bitter truth about my poor pine tree so I called in a professional. Dave from Tree Care Solutions in Kaysville, Utah, stopped by today to see if the tree was salvageable.

At first I knew it was bad. He took one look at the tree and shook his head. Who wouldn’t when looking at a naked pine?

But after digging the little tree out and lifting it up, he said that the roots actually looked all right. He told me not to give up hope, but if it didn’t have any new buds next spring, then it probably wasn’t going to come back.

I was extremely impressed by Dave and his professionalism. He was very kind and apologized for the dying tree, even though it was dying because of my lack of care – he said it was most likely a watering issue and the tree got too dry.

He didn’t even charge me for the consultation.

I’ll have to add him to the never-ending list of people who have shown us kindness and grace as we’ve been faced with this tragedy. There really are good people in the world.

I guess I’ll have to cross my fingers and wait a few more months to know the real fate of that poor tree. Meanwhile I’ll give it a fighting chance by keeping it watered and surrounding it with mulch.

My husband said that if it dies we will buy another one. I know it won’t have the same sentimental value as the first one given to us after Luca died, but since Luca’s birthday is on Earth Day, and Utah celebrates Arbor Day on the last Friday in April, and the state tree is the Blue Spruce, it might be fun to start a new tradition where we plant one each spring.

I am extremely emotional this week about the sun-scorched pine tree sitting on the side of my house. It’s ridiculous that I am being so dramatic about a plant, but I can’t help it.

The once beautiful, small blue spruce was given to our family by my husband’s coworkers after our son was stillborn in April 2010. I loved that gift. Loved it so much that I refused to plant it near a home we don’t plan to permanently stay in.

So I bought a giant pot to put it in last fall.  But because I did that, it may end up dying and I might not have it anyway.

The cute little tree sat on my porch all winter, spring and summer. Things were going really well until a couple of weeks ago when I noticed that the pine needles on the outer branches were turning brownish orange. I called and spoke to an expert at a local garden center who told me that the intense heat hitting my west-facing porch had probably scorched the tree.

We immediately moved the poor thing to the shady north side of my house and started watering it daily. But moving the tree shook off nearly 90 percent of its dried-out decrepit needles. It is now officially the Clemens’s version of the Charlie Brown Christmas Tree.

I feel horrible. Horrible that it might die because I didn’t really know how to take care of it. Horrible that I am probably going to lose one of my favorite gifts – a gift that always served as a happy reminder of my cute little Luca. Horrible that if it dies, I can never replace it.

When I got it I realized I wouldn’t get to see my little boy grow up and mature, but I would always have the tree growing as a memorial to him.

I guess for now there is nothing I can do. I’ll keep watering it each day until next June when there is a slim possibility that new needles will sprout from its crispy branches. It’s out of my control now. And for those of you who really know me, you’ll know how hard that is for me to accept.

The hardest part will be waiting nine months to see if it lives. It reminds me of when we nearly lost our goldfish Nemo a few months ago. It was only a matter of time before he actually died.

I hate death. I hate change. I wish I could walk into my boys’ room and feed Nemo each night. I wish I could see my green baby pine on my porch each time I go to check my mail. But I can’t.

I know if the tree dies it really isn’t the end of the world. Believe me I’ve endured much worse. But I want it to live. I want it to grow. I want it to thrive.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

One year ago I received a very unique birthday gift – the placement of my son’s headstone.

I don’t know exactly when it was set, but I had been checking regularly for weeks, waiting for the cemetery grounds workers to lay the granite slab. I went to the cemetery by myself early on my birthday, Aug. 3, and found it was finally there.

Now I have hundreds upon hundreds of photos of my oldest two sons first 18 months. But unfortunately I don’t have that many of Luca.

I am truly blessed and lucky to have beautiful, professional photos of my son’s perfect angelic face, but we really only got to see him twice – once at the hospital and once at the funeral home.

Therefore, most of the photos I have of Luca are not of Luca but of things that remind me of Luca. I thought I’d share those photos with you.

Most of the photos are of his little resting place. We try to go there on major holidays or special occasions.

Sometimes when I go I look around at his babyland neighbors and wish I had done more to decorate his tiny headstone. Some parents are so thoughtful and elaborate in their displays.

Other times I am super excited at the way we have remembered our youngest family member throughout the year. Like when we found the candy cane solar lights during the Christmas season.

Now I have written before about how I don’t completely enjoy visiting the cemetery, but despite my reservations, I still want to do something outward to remember him. My two oldest boys love to go too. They feel important as they scrub their brother’s headstone with toothbrushes. It’s a small gesture that makes us feel like we are serving him in some small, strange way.

Now I know that my handful of cemetery-decoration photos does not hold a candle to 18 month’s worth of baby’s-firsts photos, but they’re all I’ve got.

I hope you enjoy!