A cousin whom I haven’t seen in decades recently contacted my dad in order to complete a family tree he is working to compile.
It’s a noble task and one I fully support.
But when my dad forwarded the request to me (because I had details on my own son’s wedding and his wife’s birth date) it was an unexpected trigger.
Typing away I added mine and my husband’s birth dates and the place and date of our marriage.
Then down the line of my children.
Fiona.
James Michael and his bride. Their wedding date.
Dominic. I have another date for him-one I never, ever thought I would live to record-the day he left this earth for his heavenly home. My breath catches in my throat.
Julian.
My youngest son who is now older than his brother ever got to be.
My second son has no descendants. Every molecule that was Dominic is now in the grave. No representation of his humor, his talent, his face.
His unique light has been extinguished from this world forever.
I realize that these dates will be filed away, made part of a record for those that come after without any understanding of the person they represent.
Just facts on a page.
History.
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thelifeididntchoose 
Landmines everywhere…….xoxoxoxox
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It is those moments when all the rawness overwhelms us again. Your bravery in writing this blog is awsome…xxx
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This has indeed been one of the hardest for me. No representation.
Levi is our only son. I often look at his signature and papers he wrote, just to see him and imagine him writing. For my husband I has his signature embedded into a gold ring. It’s beautiful. He never takes it off. There is always something about his signature I embrace, a marking of his presence here on earth.
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