Yesterday we went to go fill our water containers with water from a spring nearby. When we go there we pass Hezekiah's grave and of course we cannot just drive past and not stop. I remember at Christmas we drove past and did not stop and I promised myself I would never do that again. It hurts to much to not stop. We stopped and as we walked back I saw most of the snow was gone. Last time we went we had to walk in wet, cold snow. The kids all ran back to their brother and as I walked arm in arm with hubby I cried, it's just horrible that we even have a grave for our 13 month old. Ken remined me that Hezekiah is not here and I know that. But his sweet face, tiny toes, chubby cheeks, button nose, and all the physical parts I remember of him are. Yes, under the ground where I will never see them again but they are there. Going to the grave is a time of weeping, I don't know that I can even explain the deep pain within. But when we leave we feel refreshed. I think it's important to make sure we take the time to let the pain out. It's always in there and it's good to release it. The kid's fixed up his army men they left there and we cleaned up the broken balloons from last time. I am anxious to take some flowers there. We miss our son and brother and time does not erase that!