Wednesday was a busy day.  We’ve had a lot of to dos to work on.  It’s a nice way to be busy, and it provides a purpose beyond grieving.  Although grieving does and will remain on the to do list as well.  We are basically throwing Nolan’s final party, and I want to do it right.

Wednesday’s errands were focused on flowers and clothing.

Our first stop was a florist.  It didn’t go well.  I don’t think I’m typically a high maintenance person, but I’ll admit that there’s a chance I am emotionally fragile right now, and perhaps harder to please.   But it just wasn’t right.  We chose a beautiful baby blue and white option that would display lovely on his white casket.  Even as we were going through it I felt like it wasn’t going to be what I was asking for, and while there will be a lot of emotions when I enter the room on Saturday morning to see Nolan, I can’t stomach disappointment over flowers being one of them.  That should be a beautiful part.  I bit my tongue a time or two and finally told my mom and Justin’s mom I had to get out of there.  We left (so fast I forgot my purse), commiserated in the car, and agreed we needed to find another place and start over.  I texted my coworkers and they came back with a consistent answer, so off to location 2 we went.

We were where we were supposed to be.  I could immediately tell.  It was quiet, peaceful, and when I explained why we were there I was greeted with a hug.  We started down a path for flowers and when I said his favorite color was green if she had enough green flowers to work that in, she said “I’ll be right back”.  She returned with green flowers and green ribbon.  Obviously Nolan’s flowers shouldn’t be baby blue.  They should be Nolan’s green.  And she had a plan to make that happen.

Already feeling so thankful we had started over so I could get it right, we began to walk around and pick out a few favorite keepsakes in case people call asking what they should send.  We chose a stone, a wind chime, a blanket, and I really want my own peace Lily for him.  We were looking at the Willow Tree items and many of the ones she pulled out I either had already, or they didn’t quite fit.  She went back to her inventory to look up the meaning of one, but I already knew it wasn’t right.  I put it back in the shelf and picked up a few more.  There was one I almost missed, as it was behind the wooden support.  As soon as I picked it up I cried.  I saw me holding Nolan, as this was how I held him as he passed.  I couldn’t get any words out so I just turned around and showed it to mom and Dee Dee.  They were already crying too.  We all saw me holding Nolan.   We bought that one right away.  We were where we supposed to be.

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The journey for clothes took time too.  We browsed several stores, and I kept hoping something green would pop out at me.  At store #5, it finally did.  It would have been easy to miss, but mom saw a green shirt on a back rack  After some looking, we found 2 more.  All 3 boys can match.  And they will all be in green for Nolan.

Patience was key, but after a long day, I know we got it right.

Our nurse returned for the first time.  That was hard, but she, Justin and I snuggled Landon, and talked about Nolan being better off now.

After dinner, Justin and I chose music for the visitation and narrowed down our songs for the service.  I already had 2 cds that had been made for us by friends over the years, and I’ve listened to those so many times during good times and bad.  It was therapeutic, and helped me get in a mindset to write Nolan’s story for the service.

I stayed up late in to the quiet night writing the service by Landon’s bedside.  I’d love to be the one to read it, but I’m certain that’s impossible.  And that’s ok too.  The pastor will be here later this morning to walk through the program with me.

The theme for the day was that the little things matter.  The color of the flowers mattered.  The color of the shirts mattered.  Being patient until we got it right mattered.  That little willow tree mattered.  Karson had a friend who delivered a basket of goodies she picked from her home.  “Just some stuff she got from around the house” her mom said.  It was “little”, but showing him she cared mattered.  The words through texts, facebook, and the blog matter.  I am reading them all, repeatedly.  Usually again before I fall asleep at night.  You may feel like what you are saying doesn’t matter, especially among 100s of comments.  But they all matter.

Perhaps picking up on my mood, the pup has wandered around the house, often stopping at my feet.  His sweet little paws and sad face made me smile, and they mattered.

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Having family around matters.  We’ve cried and stopped crying, and cried again over and over.  Last night, Mipa took his teeth out and tried to hand them to my dad.  “Brush these for me” he said.  So my dad said “let me get something to hold them with” and grabbed his dirty sock.   Laughing matters too.

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