This Isn't Over

 I write to heal. That is how I began this blog of mine. I had to find a way to put my grief into words, before it consumed me. So periodically, due to the nature of loss, I return to the page.

Most of my stories, are my day to day observations about my life, and the people who surround me. I can not end the month of May, without telling you of something I did in France. My final, I think, France story is about my love of churches and Ward, my son.

When they were about to close the coffin on my precious child, the gloomy undertaker people, give you a couple of minutes. We all held hands, and my mother spoke, the rest of us were quiet. We passed his body, and did whatever your heart wanted to do. Mine wanted to die, and in a way it did. I leaned into the coffin, to kiss him, and hit his nose, almost knocking me out. I smiled, as all my tears, hit his face. I whispered that I loved him forever, and this was not over.

Each and every day, I think of him, and remind him of how much he means to us.

I say his name, several times a day. I will never stop, even in France.

I asked Bill before we left to make me a dozen copies of a good picture of Ward, for me to leave in every church, I stepped into. Bill said, " What are you going to do with the pictures?" I answered, " Write his name on the back, his birth and death date, asking whomever looks at this picture to say his name out loud."
I wanted someone, besides me, to look at his beautiful face. Hold his picture in their hands, and maybe say a prayer for us.

Bill always knows, that if I have a mission, its done. ( I also took some photos of my sister, so people could say her name, Trudy Blackman)

We went in every church in Paris, lighting candles at each place. Picking out the perfect little altar to leave my photos. Many times, I would see people look at the pictures, and look around to see the person who left them. Thinking that they could spot someone with a broken heart. I think many people have that look.

I would just smile, and continue. I think that people would not recognize me as sad. I love life, and happiness flows through me. Yes, I have suffered a great loss, but my Ward knows his mom is OK. That was the first thing I told him, when we found him on his bathroom floor. Me screaming like a trapped animal, I touched and told him, I would OK. I did not at any time want his spirit to worry, I wanted him to soar. For hours I screamed, we are OK, it's going to be OK Ward. I no longer scream.

So in France, I left his picture in the Louvre, on park benches, in churches. I have had friends take his picture to Costa Rica, Israel. My friend Maria, puts his photo up at school for the Day of the Dead celebration. Each summer the Compassionate Friends do a walk, and carry his photo. We donate money to his college, Savannah College of Art and Design, money to the library, money to Animal Shelters.  His name and face, are all over the place!!! This is not over, loving someone continues, and I want people to remember he was here on earth. Even for just 25 years, its important. 

So I leave you with some photos of the church buildings that were beyond my expectations, and a few of my Ward. You can even say his name for me, Thomas Ward Baron.
This isn't over