Everett’s Tree

When Christmas came around it kind of totally sucked.  We really wanted no part of any celebrating and we wanted to sleep through the whole hope-soaked, joyful season.  We weren’t feeling it and all we could think about is Everett…what he would have loved about the whole holiday, how crappy it feels carrying on without him, how we missed out on celebrating Christmas with him.  It all was heavy and weighted and when the season was done with, we breathed a little easier.

It’s interesting how everyone processes grief and loss differently.  For us, it’s important to visit his grave…Everett’s special corner of this earth.  We know he’s not there, but we still feel connected to him there.  It was the place we said our final goodbyes and laid his small body deep within the earth.  It’s where we hung strands of paper hearts cut out by his siblings and cousin and the Chinese lanterns we bought on our trip to China when we became each others…when we saw his sweet face in person for the first time.  This cemetery holds so much of us now and even though all of me loathes that so very much, I also don’t ever want to lose it.

Our dreams and hopes for Everett immediately dissipated the day he died…they died along with him.  They would not come to fruition because our boy wasn’t physically with us anymore.  We we’re left with our memories, the hope of heaven and a grassy spot under a big tree.  We find it important to go there and to decorate and leave little mementos and to talk to him while were there.  For Christmas we decided to buy a tree for Everett’s grave, but it couldn’t be decorated just any old way.  It needed to be special.  It needed to be For Everett, From Us.

I searched the internet over and found the perfect sparkly, rainbow solar lights.  Harper wanted to make ornaments and how appropriate.  Of course his tree needed handmade ornaments by his family.  Josh Kelley talked about how each year from now we’ll pull out his box of ornaments for his graveside tree and my eyes glossed over with tears.

We bought small pinecones and mini pompoms.  We used twine to make hangers and colorful straws to make a big star for the top of his tree.  We also bought cheapo plastic beads and melted them down inside of cookie cutters to make beautiful, glassy color-filled ornaments.  We all might have lost a few brain cells in the process…those fumes we’re legit…but it was well worth it.

The kids loved every minute of it.  It was therapeutic making something for our boy…our FuShuai…our Everett.  It was a mix of deep sadness and deep honor stringing those colorful lights and placing each ornament on his tree just so.  I kept thinking, “How is this our reality?  A Christmas tree for our 3-year-old’s grave.” but I know this is our life now.  The moments of sheer shock are still there, but they are lessening because the longer we are without Everett, the longer reality sinks in deep and cutting.  Even though I’m straight up pissed off our celebrating with Everett now looks like this, I still want to do a really good job at it.

As our littlest says all the time, “He’s our boy for always.”  Indeed he is.  I will always include him in the number of children I have.  I will always say his name when asked about my kids’ names.  I will always notice him missing in photos.  I will always hang his stocking up each Christmas.  I will never pass up the opportunity to talk about him.  And I will always celebrate him every chance I get.  My arms and heart will always long for him this side of heaven.  Until then, we will carry on and celebrate and honor his memory any way we can, but especially with all the handmade, rainbow colored goodness.