Envious of death

I haven't blogged in quite a while, which I guess is good meaning things have been pretty mild around here lately...
until today.

I attended the funeral of my best friend's step dad and it was tremendously harder than I ever expected it to be.

It started when I walked in the church and saw the funeral director from Corbin's funeral. All I could think was "you buried my son", all I could see was him pointing out the casket we would bury Corbin in, all I could hear was the overused, hardly sincere "I'm so sorry for your loss".
I had to nudge around him to sign the guest book. I just wanted to yell "get out of the way!".

The service was nicely done and very emotional. I sat behind the family picking my nails, trying not to listen to the heartbreaking words of the songs played, or the verses the preacher read out, or how every. single. time I thought of why I was there I just broke down because I was envious of this man's journey to the other side.
"He gets to see Corbin."

I couldn't get it out of my head.

"He gets to hold Corbin."

"He gets to hold my son's hand and touch his hair and tell him hello."

I was envious of this poor man who battled cancer and lost. I was envious of his journey to Heaven. I was envious that he has moved on to a place of pure love and no pain. Oh how I wanted to follow him.

But I couldn't. So I just cried and cried, aching to hold my baby one more time. To look into his deep blue eyes and tell him I loved him.

After the heart wrenching burial, which included a military send off that had me bawling, I drove across the road to the baby cemetery.

I had no words, only tears. I hadn't cried that much and that hard in a long time.

I hurt for my friend and her family over their loss and the heartache I know they are feeling. But I also ache to follow him to that place...to where my baby is...to see my angel.