I once wrote that the horrible thing about Perry's autopsy papers was that it was one of the last official places where his name would be written. And I hated that one of the last times I would see his name would be that way. While it may seem like a small thing, a written name is part of the huge loss you experience when you lose a child. It is taboo to mention them, and even rarer for another person to actually type it as if it will summon death to them to.
But to a woman who has lost their child that name means mornings watching sunbeams, hands tangling in hair, the milky smell of a newborn held to their chest for the first time. It is love and innocence. Eyes that captured a smiling soul.
I placed a request on my facebook page. I was not original, I stold it from other Moms. I wanted pictures of Perry's name. It gives back new pictures that are his alone, and coaxes warm memories from a clouded mind.
And it is wonderful.
Here are just a few:
This one I did. Every little boy goes through a firefighter stage, and if he were here he would have climbed on this ladder truck by now, wearing a small red plastic kid's fire helmet. We would have taken pictures with me holding them, with that pride in my eye that for one moment in his life I was what every parent wants to be- a hero in their child's eyes.
This one is from Aunt Elaine. She often buys ornaments for the new babies. I cry because Christmas is one of the days when I miss him the most- the memories that should be. I'd already bought him a few Christmas gifts, a monster hat and mittens that he may pass down to Paiden. He was such an easygoing personality, I don't think he would mind a bit. This is (I suspect) from her Christmas tree.
This one is from Zotti. Fenway. If you have read my blog you would know that Perry Bryce was named after his Grandpa Bryce. Grandpa loved baseball. Mom and I watched an old film of him running bases while I held Perry. We both hoped that he might like the game too and carry something forward from Grandpa.
Some from Beaches- How often I write his name when I am off by myself in the sand on vacation, just to see it again.
In toys and chalk. He would scrawl his own name one day. Others do it for him. In toys that little boys love. As much as I hate stepping on small pieces, I wish I would more often, because he should be at the age of toddler legos and cars.
There are many more (I wish I had the space!!!), and hopefully some I haven't seen yet as we still have a couple days. Thank you gentle friends for giving me back my son's name. You are adding back a little of the sparkle to his birthday. I am blessed.