He Was A Lobster for Halloween

I’ve never had a problem with death. At least, not the idea of it. It’s how one died that makes it hard.

The box of tissues near the entrance was quickly being emptied. Each persons hugs were long, tight, and meaningful. Dave said she’d be happy to see me. And although I’m sure Chris didn’t know my name, he held out his arms and embraced me in a tight hug. It felt more like he was comforting me than I him…

Posters of pictures lined the side of the room. He had big blue eyes, and a wide, adorable, toothless grin.

Now he looked painted, like a little porcelain doll with perfect skin. He was a big boy. Dressed in perfect white. I wanted to believe he was asleep but the way he was laying and the way his arms were placed looked too stiff. A small Buzz Lightyear cell phone was tucked in next to his leg. I remember holding him. I remember making him smile. I remember making him giggle.

She looked completely dazed. Eyes wide, staring off into space, completely glazed over. And she looked so thin, so pale. I watched as she hugged the few people in front of me. There was a break in the line. She began to shake. I thought she was going to fall over, then she stumbled for a seat.

She was so beautiful. She was so detached. Her baby was gone. And my heart ached for her.