I’m here alone this morning.  Lu and her sister are off at the Farmer’s Market and the odd fog that settled over CT has lifted.

It is so quiet.  My queasy stomach and thumping heart are only drowned out by the sound of my fingers on this keyboard.

In the back yard a broom rests against the table, and rocks of all shapes and sizes are slowly drying in the crate I brought back from the piles of earth at the park.

Today at the tree planting, we are going to ask everyone to take a stone and place it over the fresh mulch and turned earth.

Up the street, the tree is upright and halfway planted.  We met the landscapers at the park yesterday evening and they prepared the site.  The process was surprisingly industrial and forthright.  Two trucks pulled up, three guys got out.  They unloaded a small backhoe from one truck as the maple tree we selected laid sideways in the other truck.

Under careful control and with powerful action, the backhoe bit into the sparse grass and rocky soil and pulled up dark, fresh dirt.  The hole was large but it was excavated fast.  It would have been hours for Lu and I to accomplish that same task by hand.  Plus, it’s hard to dig when you’re sobbing.  So they did it for us, quick and easy.

They gently placed the tree in the deep hole and then covered it partway, leaving piles of dirt and fertilizer nearby for all of us to finish with this afternoon.

As they were placing the tree, Lu and I dug through the fresh piles of earth to pull out rocks and stones.  This morning I went back there to make sure the tree was still standing and no night-time passerby had tripped into the half-empty hole.  I gathered the rocks we had piled up they day before, placed them in a crate and brought them home.

After a spray with the hose the stones revealed myriad hues, suddenly cleasned of the dirt that concealed their colors.

I sit here at the edge of calm, steeling myself for the coming maelstrom.  I’m glad we are doing this.  But I do not know how we will bear it.

Only together can we withstand this sadness, and it is always only just enough to get by.  The love and support of our friends and family ensures our strength.  When all of together hold Silas in our hearts and minds he feels close, and that is a precious gift we need to move through our days.

Thank you all for your love.  We need it.