Joseph's story - Pictures

I have been overwhelmed by the response to Joseph's Story. 

The responses have been so tender. Benjamin and I have truly been surrounded by love. 

We've gone back and visited Joseph's grave a couple of times now. It never gets easier for me to leave there. It's a place of serene peace and deep sorrow. I lay down next to all the flowers and the turtle wind chime we put there and place my hand on the freshly placed ground. I close my eyes and send a silent prayer to my Heavenly Father. 

I miss my son.

I hit the anger stage of grief Friday night. I found out that I'd lost my son because of a terrible infection in me. This awoke such a disturbing train of thought in myself that I suddenly felt anger and hatred encompass me. I was hurting and I wanted to hurt everything around me. I screamed and pounded the ground and demanded, "Why?" until, with my mom and Ben at my side, I finally gave way to sobbing tears and, eventually, prayer, which brought me back to peace. 

We haven't cried as much lately. I was concerned that maybe we were forgetting how to feel. Then we opened up the latest Ensign today and turned right to a piece about tender moments in the life of Emma and Joseph Smith. The first picture we saw was such a painful and familiar sight to us that the tears came back.

Joseph and Emma Smith lost their firstborn, Alvin, on June 15th, 1828.

But For a Small Moment, © Liz Lemon Swindle

Benjamin and I bid farewell to our firstborn, Joseph, on June 18th, 2012.

 I was going to go back in and add these pictures to the previous post, but then I figured that most of the people who have already read it, would not see them. The above image is one of my most cherished. It's a moment from my short time with Joseph. I've also got some scenes from his funeral.
One thing I would like to pass on to you that I've learned recently is never to be afraid to feel something. Be afraid to turn away from your feelings. Please, whatever emotions our story and these images awake in you, don't look away. You just might find that hidden in your darkest feelings is the brightest faith and hope.

The tiny white things on the blanket next to the small statue on the table are porcelain molds of Joseph's hands and feet. The painting was given to us by some friends of my mom's, one of whom has had a similar experience to our own. The blanket serving as a table cloth is Ben's baby blanket. We put Joseph on it after he was born.

Ben and I each have grandparents who experienced the early loss of a child. Through talking to them I have come to realize that this will never be something that we "get over". Our grandparents still tear up when they talk about their children that they have spent a half century missing. Joseph will never be too far from our thoughts. We may each live to be 98 years old. That's another 74 years from where I'm at now. Ben and I have missions of our own that are yet to be accomplished before we part. Apparently, Joseph's mission on the other side of the veil was one so very important that he was not able to stay with his parents for long. 

Since Ben and I married, it often pained me to think that one of us would have to leave the other at some point. I still never wish to leave my best friend, my Benjamin, for any length of time. But, it does bring me great comfort now to think that which ever of us parts this life first, will just be the first one with the opportunity to meet our beautiful Joseph face to face and tell him how proud we are to call him "son". The one who stays behind will have to stay busy with our posterity that is yet to come. Thanks to Joseph, I now realize just how thin the veil between this life and the next truly is. Those who have left and those left behind are never really all that far apart.