Deep Roots

Putting down roots, I suppose, could be defined as the act of doing something that will keep you in one place for a lengthy period of time.  Sean and I stayed in the area after graduating college and bought a house we planned on raising our children in.  After having Kennedy I thought to myself I would have a hard time ever leaving the home we brought her home to from the hospital.  After having Jack and not coming home with him but rather laying him to rest in the cemetery about a mile from our house, I knew in my heart I would never leave him behind and move elsewhere.  So, I guess you could say the roots we have put down run deeper than most. 

About a week after we first lost Jack my sister, Sara, told me she and her husband wanted to buy us a tree to remember him by.  It was one of the most brutal winters we have had in a long time so the buying and planting of a tree was delayed by a while.  She had also told me to pick any tree that we’d want to have.  I felt like I had to make sure it was a good one; I owed it to Jack to make sure of it.  I finally decided on a Weeping Cherry and as soon as I told Sara she said okay, they’d get it over here as soon as we were ready. 

So, this weekend we quite literally put down roots that we hope will be here forever. Sara and her family came over to help us plant this baby tree that will grow the way we’d hoped our baby boy would have. She and Sean dug and mixed all kinds of special crap into the soil to make sure the little tree was set up to do it’s very best (Eric and I are more of the supervisory kind of folk).  When it was all safe and sound in it’s space on the lawn, I laid the beautiful stone Anne had given us down in front of the tree.  The whole setup looked perfect, like it was meant to be there.  It is, as my sister now refers to it, the tree that love grew.

When we were done planting, my amazing sister produced a helium balloon from her car.  It read ‘You're So Special’.  She gave it to Kennedy and Cooper to send up to baby Jack in heaven (or Kevin as Kennedy refers to it).  The two of them let it go without even the smallest hint of protest, which was amazing in-and-of-itself considering a helium balloon to toddlers is like a Lilly Pulitzer dress in Target.  They cheered as it floated away to heaven waving goodbye and saying, “Hi Jack, we hope you like the balloon. We love you. We miss you.”  Now I know, I know it is a terrible thing to set a balloon loose and that it could kill a seal pup or whatnot.  But truth be told, I was okay with this in that moment.  It did my broken heart some good to see his sister and cousin express real, honest-to-God love for a little boy they’d never met.

My boy would have been 4 months old today.  Just like that 1/3 of a year has passed and that, to me, is one of the hardest parts of all of this.  When you have a baby and are watching them grow, time just flies and it kills you because you want it all to slow down.  When you have a baby and they die time keeps flying; it just seems to crush you that much more.  So here we have it:  I have a beautiful family that happens to have a painfully empty place in it and a beautiful home that happens to have something new taking up some space in it’s landscape.  Something that is starting off small, maybe not looking like very much, but that will grow into something beautiful, that will make our house look like a home; something that will flower every year, reminding the world it has something amazing to offer.  In short, we have this tree that will represent everything I believe Jack Holden Doyle would have shown of himself to this world.