After two weeks of waiting for permits and certificates, we finally had everything cleared to lay our sweet boys to rest. It was January 26...1-26...which held special significance to us as 1:26pm was the time Mark Allen had came into this world just two short weeks before.
The day was overcast and dreary, just like our hearts. As we pulled up to the hill, we saw the pale petite blue casket, and suddenly our air was gone. There were our boys, not in the blue blankets and arms of loved ones, but in a cold, stale casket. Tears began to well as we slowly plodded uphill, our legs like sandbags.
Finally, we were in front of our boys and tears began to pour out as we held each other and wept. Through the tears we managed to say a few incoherent words of comfort. After collecting ourselves briefly, we were able to pray one last time as a family. We have never wanted more for this world to pass and for us to be with our boys and Creator than in that instant.
A few more moments passed and Jess began to read the children's book our pastor had read at the memorial Guess How Much I Love You. It was a feeble attempt for us to try and communicate one last time just how deeply and powerfully we loved our boys. With a quick nod several workers appeared to lower the casket into the grave. On top of the casket we placed several yellow roses. With all courage we could muster we hugged one last time and said goodbye...it was 1:26pm.
As we stiffly walked back towards the car numbed and hardened by life's cruelty we couldn't help but feel like we were ourselves being held by our heavenly father. It was Him who was reading to us "I love you right up to the moon and back." With a flood of confidence we knew that we would make it through together and that He would turn our mourning into gladness (Isaiah 61).