Resting Place

Last Friday, we interred Oscar's ashes in the spot we chose back in January. We had selected a niche at Mountain View Cemetery here in Vancouver, the same place we had his memorial service. The cemetery itself is a beautiful spot, with (true to its name) a spectacular mountain view, careful landscaping, and a wide variety of places to walk, sit and remember. We chose Oscar's spot based on a few factors; places to sit nearby, nice sunlight, a fountain and benches to keep things exciting for little visitors, and some interesting neighbors.

We didn't plan anything formal, just the four of us and a photographer to capture a few more memories. (Erica of Erica Chan photography was lovely, gracious, and captured things just as I'd hoped. All these pictures are hers and I can't thank her enough). It turned out to be a beautiful sunny day, much like the days after Oscar died, when I took so much comfort in the sunshine streaming through the windows that seemed to tell me he was ok. We sat with his urn, and took turns holding it, chatting, and thinking to ourselves, then Emma and Alice placed the urn in its niche. We watched as the cover and engraved stone were secured, and that was it. We sat for a while longer (well, three of us sat, and Alice collected leaves and explored and climbed the benches), then went for a walk together. It was a beautiful day, not as intensely emotional as we thought it might be, but full of love and Oscar's spirit.

With Oscar's birthday and a new baby on the way, it seemed like an appropriate time to complete this chapter of his story. Someone compared it to moving the toddler out of the crib before the new baby arrives, an analogy I found both fitting (as Oscar's urn had previously been sitting on my bedside table, and the new baby will be in a bassinet beside the bed), and poetic, as we complete one stage before moving to the next. I am really looking forward to having a spot to visit (Alice asked today when we could go back!), and it feels good to know that this piece of him is safe and secure. We will always love our little man, and his brief life continues to touch and enrich us in ways we could never have imagined.