This one I was looking forward to because it seemed more of an activity than a group sitting a circle crying. The closer the date came, I realized why they chose to make mosaics. Mosaics is the art of putting pieces together, like a puzzle. I could see the symbolism of what they were going to try to accomplish.
Eric and I got to the center early that Saturday morning... we sat at a table by ourselves. As I looked around the room, I saw two tables in the front with glass plates and bowls arranged on them. The tables we were sitting at were covered with black track bags. There was about 15 people there and it seems like most of them knew each other and Eric and I were the newbies. The person leading it was really great though. She was welcoming. I have to admit, I did feel out of place for a while. I felt that Eric and I were the youngest couple in there and I thought about how sad that was... The first group of women that introduced themselves stated they were there to grieve for the husbands... many were there for their husbands, their parents, their grandparents... but there were two couples there grieving for their sons. Grieving for their sons, just like we were grieving for ours.
I felt okay going in there... and proud hoping that Cameron was watching us. When she came around to our table to introduce ourselves, I told them I was there to grieve my baby boy Cameron. She went on to the next person... and then that's when the tears came. Quietly, but they came. Eric held my hand. She explained how we were to pick out some dishes from the tables and we were going to double bag them in black trash bags and go outside to the parking lot and break them. I had my eye on a baby blue plate already and was hoping I'd get my hands on that one.
When I went to the table, I got the blue plate I wanted, but then saw another plate with a duck in the middle of it and blue around it. Meant for a baby boy. I took it also along with one or two other objects. We placed the objects in the trash bags and followed everyone outside to a parking lot. And we swung them up and down, hitting the cement, hearing the glass shatter. Thinking of all our anger... of everything pent up.
Why is my baby gone?
Why did this have to happen to me?
Why do I have to live?
Why Why Why???!
I MISS HIM. I feel that's it's cruel of God to leave me on this earth aching for my baby. Knowing that there is no way I can get over this... that the pain is never-ending.
We went back in and emptied our bags on the table... the duck was still in tact. That was going in the middle of my mosaic. I spent a lot of time trying to get it perfect... it's for my Cameron. I hate that I have to make stuff like this for him.... when I should be buying him more clothes and toys. But instead, I'm memorializing him.
They led us through a meditation of sorts... I had a picture of my grandma holding Cameron in her arms... looking so peaceful. Tears were running down my face... I want to be there with them.
Eric saw his grandpa holding Cameron... and Cameron had jet black hair. I know Cameron is being loved there... and I can just imagine the joy that Mamo and Eric's grandpa feel being able to take care of Cameron. But his own mom can't feel it.
All in all, I loved this mosaic process... I love the putting back together the broken pieces... although it made it so clear to me that I will never be put back together... I'm forever broken.
Broken pieces trying to mend
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