When we knew we had to say goodbye to Ewan, I knew I wanted her there. When I called her, she did not hesitate in coming. As difficult as we knew it would be to view the images of that night again -- as much pain as we knew they would recall -- we knew they would be invaluable to us, their significance surpassing words. Aside from her skill as a photographer, we knew she would be the one who would love us and our child, and to treat these last hours with Ewan with surpassing love, dignity, and compassion.
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This photo just slays me. I don't know how else to say it. I see the love we have for our son. I see your love there, too. I see our grief in letting him go, and our simultaneous acceptance of it. I see someone so innocent and not meant for this earth resting peacefully in our arms -- and looking at him, I wonder if just maybe he was too good for this place. I wonder if like his namesake Eliezer, he would say, Do not delay me. The LORD has made my mission successful. Now let me go back to my Master. I see the cross. I see the Trinity. I see the Blessed Mother. I see the dream and the nightmare holding hands, the darkness and the light bleeding together.
But the light is always more powerful than the darkness. No matter how dark the night, even the smallest pinprick of light pierces through. I really can't take any credit for Ewan, or for the light he shed. I'm certain that he gave me enough mystery to unravel for the rest of my life, even should that be another fifty or sixty years.
Sweet baby, you never really belonged to me. My understanding of what this means barely scratches the surface of the truth. Until my dying breath, I will miss you and weep for the loss of you, but thank God in every tear that I was the one called your mother.