Painful reminders

Sunday I took Lily and two of her cousins to get their picture taken for my grandfather's birthday. They call him Big Pop. He gives them donuts and he gives us diapers. They are enthralled by his stories and they aren't scared of his booming voice. He's gentle with them. He's kind. He's a good, good man.

We were waiting for the pictures to be done and there was a woman standing there with her newborn son. We started chatting about children and how precious they are. It seemed that maybe she struggled to have her children. She had a 3 year old little girl and an adorable newborn son.

She asked about Lily...her name and age. When I told her she said, "Oh! If he was a girl his name would have been Lily. Isn't that funny?" Yes that is funny and he's adorable, I say. What's his name. "Dylan." she replies. Dylan...hmmm...what a beautiful name. Then, just as quick, our pictures were done and I left with tears in my eyes and a heavy heart.

It was a painful reminder of those great-grandchildren that weren't there.

I've been having a rough time lately with some things with Lily. Friday night I cried myself to sleep blubbering something about needing the boys to help me get through this. So, if you believe in such things, do you think that was a sign? I'm compelled to think that it was. I believe it was their way of saying that they are indeed here and helping me cope. I also think that I will forever remember that woman and her newborn son, Dylan.