This is out of sync with my current posts, but it’s newly written and it’s not like the end of Oscar’s Story is a surprise:
Oscar was buried. I’m not sure it would have been my first choice, but it was the right one, for him to have a grave.
In the early days after he buried, I visited his grave frequently. I bought ornaments to decorate it and I took frequent photographs.
Last year, I stopped visiting. It wasn’t really a conscious decision, it just wasn’t something I got around to doing. And, the longer I left it the more I knew that it was going to be covered in weeds when I did go. And you know what? I couldn’t really face that. Knowing that I had let it get into that state. Knowing that I hadn’t even been able to keep my son’s grave tidy.
I told myself I didn’t need to visit his grave, that he is in my thoughts all the time. That I can remember Oscar anywhere. To some extent that is true. But, Oscar’s grave is his memorial. It is the solid proof that he existed. It is the spot above where his body rests. It’s the one place he actually physically exists.
And that is where his Auntie comes in. She drew this card when he was born:
And you know what? She fixed it!
How I am so grateful for her having fixed it. For doing what I couldn’t. And the best way I know how to do that is to share what she did on my blog.
And she even got Oscar a card and balloon on his birthday:
Maybe that’s enough?
Oh, and an interesting note (though possibly only to me):
Oscar is in part named for the wizard in the wizard of oz. Dorothy’s aunt in that was “Aunt Em.” Now Oscar’s Aunt Em is nothing like that character, but I like that there is that connection to both names being in the book.