In the beginning, I suspected you. Whispering things in my ear. Things like café. Things like chocolate. Things I would never indulge on.
The last thing you said to me was not a whisper, but a seed. Planted in my dreams. Blossoming on the tip of my tongue. You chose your name, Gabriel, when you had already been gone for several days. I should have known then that you had been born in heaven. I should have known then that you were gone.
For weeks, my stomach did not swell any bigger. I hoped I was imagining it. I thought the youth of our genetic material would spare us this loss. I thought many things, then.
I do not dwell on hypotheticals. You were never meant to be with us in the way we planned. We just did not know that until now. You are where you were always meant to go.
And we planned. Parties. Crib. Carseat. In mere weeks, we would have known how to decorate your nursery. What color to do the walls. The rug. The bed sheets. Now, we prepare your ofrenda. Cempasúchil, the marigold, to guide you home. Your ultrasound photo, the only one we have to prove you lived. Your heart beat. Once. I am afraid to listen to the recording I have, the first time we heard that beautiful sound.
I do not own enough black. I do not know where else to put this darkness but in writing. To bleed black ink. To ignore the other blood, crimson, reminding me each time that for nearly three weeks, I was your tomb.
My mother’s day gift arrived late. The most dazzling ring I have ever owned. Rose gold. Diamonds. Opals. You were never meant to arrive before it. But you were, I have to remind myself. You were meant to touch our lives in this way.
So, we will set out marigolds. Light our candle above the bed. Speak to you in our dreams.
Just Thoughts 