Flowers! God damn flowers! Just yesterday I had been saying how flowers are a temporary gift, and how I would rather have something that will last rather than flowers. Although they are pretty and do smell good, they die so quickly and are forgotten after being tossed in the trash just as quickly. When will I learn to keep my big mouth shut? January 1st, 2017 came paying no attention to my objection , and as the morning of the first day of this new year approached, I knew where I would be, and what I would be doing; same as the last new year and will be doing every new year henceforth. So, after working myself up in order to cover up my very old feelings of apprehension, fear, sadness, anger, frustration, and all the other emotions that one might feel beginning a 2nd new year with a trip to a cemetery to visit their child's grave to take down his Christmas decor. I left alone, not wishing to have anyone witness just another show of weakness and/or anger outbursts which was more likely than not to occur, and I just felt that I needed to be there alone today. The drive seemed to take forever, even though there was very little traffic, and the cemetary is just a short ways from my house. I pulled into this place of shawdows and began the long torturous journey to the very end of the cemetery. I knew it would be colder than it was when I set up the X-mas decorations, so I came prepared this time. I pulled up to the granite stone that marks the place where my babies ashes are buried, I took a deep breath and began to put on the many items that would keep me a bit warmer, and allow me to stay a bit longer to visit with my son. I removed the lights from the granite stone that no longer lit up. Then I removed the glittery branches, his christmas tree that no longer even had the cord attached at all, his stocking, which secretly I had hoped would be empty, but the candy and the special thing I had so carefully and thoughtfully hid inside had not been touched. I began to cry while going next to the red tree skirt that I had put not only as the base for the decorations, but I wanted to keep my baby as warm and protected from the cold breath of winter that I could. The makeshift blanket easily came off the granite, but would not budge from the concrete that held the stone in its place. I pulled even harder and to my horror, it ripped right where I had pulled. I gasped and yelled out the word "No". I always take special care to keep every little thing that is connected to my son in perfect condition so I can pack it and then label the box that it will be preserved in with the occasion and the year. I cannot say exactly why I do this, but I just know I have to do it. Pissed off, I went to find something I could use not only to take back what winter had destroyed, but also to rid my son from the ice that imprisoned him beneath it. Thank God my oldest son works construction and he usually left his work tools in the trunk. I opened the trunk and sure enough his tools were there. I grabbed a big claw hammer chuckling an almost sinister kind of laugh and returned to show who was the boss today! The ice was thick and had frozen itself to the granite, so much care had to be taken to remove the ice that hugged the bottom of the granite stone threatening to never let go. After quite awhile of using the claw hammer to slowly chisel away the ice, my fingers that held the hammer were beginning to hurt, and I was trying to figure out why that would be happening when I had put 4 pairs of gloves on to prevent that exact thing. I put the hammer down and walked to the car, that I had kept running in case I needed to get warmth quickly. And I needed warmth quickly at that point. But my fingers hurt even worse when I put them over the hot air on the dash. I rubbed my hands and began to wrap my hurting fingers in a dish towel I had brought with me to clean Seamus's resting place. He always liked things tidy. The towel felt like it was cracking my fingers into pieces. I swore a couple of times complaining to myself when it came to me, and I could hear my son laughing at me for being a dumbass and putting disposable gloves, like the ones used in hospitals, under fabric gloves. And I was a dumbass for not realizing that as the ice stuck to my gloves and began to melt through my layers, it would freeze the disposable glove and become an instant freezer. I might as well put my fingers in the snow and ice without gloves rather than than insulating the ice helping it to freeze the hell out of my fingers. I just mumbled the words " Ya, ya laugh at your mom as her fingers fall off from frostbite." Fixing the finger problem, I began to chisel again. It was a laborious task because I had to break the ice slowly and carefully in small patches so as not to hit the granite stone. This actually required precision and more swings with the hammer while I was barely able to see because of the many layers of clothing I had to put on to keep from getting hypothermia. I took a little rest and put my face next to the only thing that could get me that close to my son. I felt the sad words " Mom, you don't need to do this, and I would do it for you if I could" to which I replied silently " I know you would baby, and I want to do it for you, Seamus."