Tuesday, August 6, was our Charlie’s 3rd birthday – yes, our boys shared the same due date and both had measured ahead, squaring them to be exactly three years apart. To ensure we celebrated our firstborn’s birthday as he deserved, we had asked a friend to complete our plan of creating the Women’s Weekly train cake. Which she absolutely pulled off! And we were able to share a carriage between us, Nan and Pa and Nannie and Papa that same day. But more importantly, Charlie loved it! And that’s all that mattered.
The cake was also a hit with the nieces and nephews that weekend when everyone returned to spend the day celebrating our Charlie. This would also be the first time I would see the entire family following the passing of Louis.
But alas on the actual day, to ensure we celebrated amongst the sadness, another friend had reached out and offered to take some updated family photos of the three of us. That same friend also took some of our very first family portraits so when she suggested his birthday, I found it fitting. What a perfect way to celebrate our boy who had chosen to be earthside with us as his parents.
That morning was absolutely freezing and the fog didn’t even lift until lunch time, so our photos are all blanketed with a sea of white. The photos also included our ‘2024 Charlie Bear’, who we had brought for the intended arrival of our second born.
Although sad, we will forever cherish these photos and we’re so thankful for our friends who stepped in to help in whatever way they could during our time of grief. These photos also reminded us that through all the heartbreak, we were still a family.
I held onto Louis’ bear the entire photoshoot. We took photos with the sheep, the dogs and Callie our cat that kept photo bombing us. She also kept harassing the photographer, which was odd as she usually hates new people, but I guess on this particular day, she wanted to be included.
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The following day, Wednesday, August 7, was Louis’ service. We had opted to host it in the chapel at the funeral home and kept it small, us and immediate family only.
Still, entering the chapel that morning felt surreal, here we were walking into our local funeral home and it was our newborn son who lay enclosed in the casket on the table. Louis was surrounded by items just for him – a few things family members had gifted us before he was born and some items we had bought specifically for the service.
My first moment of ‘I can’t do this’, was when my sister handed me a brown bag that had been sent over from our grandmother – containing a hand knitted bear for Louis. I fumbled with the ribbon before making eye contact with my sister and burst into tears, I had to remember to breathe before positioning the bear upon Louis’ casket.
Once everyone had arrived, the song ‘Visiting Hours’ commenced the service, before the funeral director led with the introductions. It seemed like a lot of words for such a life that was shortly lived, but with our verse, and poem ‘Weeping willow with your tears running down’, a tribute verse chosen on behalf of Louis ‘An angel never dies’, somehow, we filled in 20 minutes of grieving peace.
As we sat in the front row, Dave and I tried to encourage Charlie to sit with us, but we were left dumbfounded when he yelled out his brother’s name, ‘Louis!’ as clear as day. Dave and I just looked at each other, completely shocked. Did he understand that his baby brother was there with us at this exact point in time? Surely not!
Charlie did not sit still for the service, but he was better behaved than we expected. While the director continued on with readings dedicated on behalf of both grandparents, ‘Just for a moment’ and ‘We thought of you today’, Charlie pulled away from us and went and stood quietly in a corner of the room alone. Before, again confusing us, as he returned with tears running down his face. But he soon got over his emotions because he squealed at my sisters as they took to the microphone to read their verse ‘These are my footprints’.
Our reflection song was ‘Small bump’, which was followed by what they refer to as the ‘Committal’, which they described as welcoming Louis’ body back into the earth and soil. This was followed by our floral tributes, where everyone was given a single white rose, wrapped in a blue ribbon, to place atop the casket. We took our time, encouraging Charlie to either place his rose with his brother or keep it himself – which he eventually decided to place it along-side ours. Inevitably, Louis’ tiny casket became covered by 13 beautiful white roses. This part of the ceremony played out to the song ‘Little things’.
Following the conclusion of the service, the song ‘Beautiful boy’ commenced and my sisters were asked to help with the flowers and Dave picked up our boy from the table. The plan was to have Charlie help but he wouldn’t have a bar of it and as I considered picking him up myself, Ebony jumped in, passing me the flowers and picking him up herself.
Once outside Charlie was passed over to Dave and the song ‘Two of us’ started to play. We stood as a family and again tried to encourage Charlie to say goodbye to his brother, but he stayed quiet.
That was until the back of the hearse was closed and the vehicle was led out onto the road. Charlie screamed ‘No!’ ‘Mine!’ and burst into tears as the hearse continued to drive away, taking our baby boy with it. The three of us just held each other while we cried, Charlie the loudest. We stayed like that until I felt someone else’s arms around me – it was Dad and through all the tears he wanted to tell me how proud he was, of the strength we had shown, of the service we had put together and the way we had honoured both our boys. Unfortunately, what I failed to respond was that ‘I get it all from you Dad.’
After the service everyone followed us back home, where we shared lunch, the girls drank wine and the boys drank Jack Daniels – I drank coffee. Charlie enjoyed being the centre of attention and continued reminding everyone we were all still cable of smiling. He dragged Uncle Scottie around, jumping on the trampoline and stealing all the ‘good’ slices, being his usual cheeky self. However, it would be a lie if I said we weren’t a little haunted by what had happened at the service.
'Our Little Louis' 