Mom's 42 Year Wish

Many years ago, 42 to be exact, my mother gave birth to a baby girl who only lived for 28 hours.  Her name was Debra Lynn.  I was only 3 and a half when she was born but her little life always had a profound effect on me.  I remember so much about that time...Mom leaving to give birth but returning from the hospital without a baby, a tiny casket, a beautiful white dress, bonnet, and socks, tiny knees, an old woman in a mortuary. 

The thing I remember most though was Mom telling me that when she died, the baby was to be moved from the cemetery where she had been initially placed and buried at her feet.  In Mom's last years, she decided that it would be too expensive and told my father to just leave the baby where she was.  Knowing that it really was what she wanted, I began making arrangements to have the baby moved just as soon as it became evident that Mom's time on this earth was short.  The idea was to have Mom and Debra buried together on the same day.  Mom died sooner than expected and the plan didn't work out.

It took two months but on Monday of this week, the process began of having Debra transferred from one cemetery to the other.

The Sexton supervising the first shovelful

What a learning experience this has been for me.  I didn't know what I was getting into prior to the day when I informed the mortuary of the plan.  What I found out was interesting, confusing, bureaucratic, and somewhat crazy.  Did you know that a cemetery is not licensed to do a disinterment?  Yep, they can put you in the ground but are not licensed to dig you up.  They could only dig until they found the tip of the casket and then they turned the duties over to us.  Now, we aren't licensed either so we had to bring along with us an undertaker who was licensed.  Here is where I have to give my sincerest thanks to Goff Mortuary for all their help.  They truly went above and beyond for our family and we will never be able to repay their kindness.  Thanks to their presence at the cemetery, we, the siblings of Debra Lynn, were able to get right down in the hole and dig to get her out.  It became one of the most sacred, beautiful days I have ever spent with my brothers and sisters.

Waiting and watching as the backhoe carefully digs.

The first corners of the tiny fiberglass vault appeared and the cemetery turned the job of digging over to us,

Tim and I were the first to have shovels in our hands.

We all took our turns which made the digging easy.

Finally, we could see the entire fiberglass vault and it was time to loosen and lift.

Sandy (top) and me lifting our sister.

 

It really wasn't heavy, I think it weighed about 10 lbs.



We were not sure what condition the casket would be in so when I placed on the grass, fully intact, a sigh of relief went up...along with some cheers!

 

And the hugs were passed around.

Figuring out how to remove the outer vault

Her little casket finally exposed.

We looked inside the casket and what we found is too personal and beautiful to share on a public blog.  I will however, show her darling little socks that sit exactly where her tiny feet were placed 42 years ago.

   

I'm sure Mom was looking on as this picture was taken.  Finally, all of her children (and a couple of grandchildren for good measure) were physically in the same place at the same time.  This had never happened before.

It was only fitting that Dad should carry his baby daughter away from what had been her resting place.  I can imagine him, when he was much younger, carrying this very casket.  It would have been in pristine condition, bright white with shiny golden hinges and knobs.  The grief must have been palpable as he and Mom would place that casket, which carried the body of their sixth child, in the ground. 
Today,  Dad will carry her one more time.  This time it will be to place her permanently with the love of his life...His beautiful wife, Gayle Marie.

***Post edit...
After writing this post, my dad made the comment to me that carrying Debra out of the cemetery was the first time he had ever held his little girl.  At the time of her burial, one of the funeral directors was the one to carry her from the limousine to her grave.   It seems that back when Debra died, it wasn't customary to allow parents to be "hands on" with their dying/dead babies.  Something about trying to spare them pain...
I'm so glad that we have evolved to the point that we not only let parents hold their babies, but that they are encouraged to dress them, visit with them, have photographs taken if they wish,  or do whatever they need to get some tangible evidence of the baby's existence.  I can't imagine holding my baby for the first time in a decades old casket.   But, at least Dad got to hold her...Mom never did.