Where are you going....

I live on an island
in a really small town.
There are a few ways to get to the main roads
but I oddly hate going certain ways. 

I find myself going the long way
because I don't want to pass by the funeral home.

I've been to that place 4 times.

To you that is nothing.

But for me that is 4 times too many.

The first time we were there
I physically saw and touched him for the first time. 
Nothing ever prepares you to see your baby 
but the first time it being at a funeral home
is something I can not put into words. 

The second time was to bring them his homecoming clothes.
The little outfit we had so excitedly packed away in my hospital bag at 37 weeks. 
We had asked them the first time there if we could have him dressed nicely.
Even though we didn't have a funeral I still wanted him to be dressed nice and comfy.
I emotionally couldn't do it so they did and had us come back.

When we went in the third time we got to see him again, and for the last time.
He was dressed in that outfit

and
he
looked 
perfect. 

The last time we went there was to get his ashes. 
A tiny little gold urn
with a tiny little gold plaque 
with his little name
and the date.

The day that was supposed to be the biggest day of our lives.
And it is
And it always will be.