It’s been four and one-half months since we lost Lucy. I can’t believe it’s been that long. I still ache for her to be with us every single day. We miss her so much.

It took us a little while to decide what we wanted to put on Lucy’s marker. We knew we wanted a verse but at first we didn’t know what. After putting thought into it, we decided on a verse that we really love, Psalm 139:13-14.

We got the call last Thursday that the marker was at the cemetery and installed. I immediately felt this intense mix of emotions. I was nervous/anxious/excited/sad. I was both nervous and anxious to see what it looked like, to know if everything on it was correct. (Let’s be honest, our last name isn’t exactly phonetical and they originally had it spelled wrong on the proof.) I was excited that the marker was in because it’s Lucy’s, it’s about her and we love her. I was sad because, well, it’s a grave marker.

Even though we love Lucy so deeply, going to the cemetery isn’t easy, it’s super hard. I feel nervous and nauseous each time we make the drive across town, and pull into the place that contains a lot of really tough memories. And being there, it all comes flooding back. The pain surfaces and it’s heavy. I tense up and I have to remind myself to breathe.

We decided to bring Oliver with us to the cemetery for the first time. He will be turning three in a few months and we felt like it was time. Before we went, we sat down with him to explain where we were going. From previous discussions, he knows that Lucy lives in heaven with Jesus. We now had the discussion about our body and our spirit. We told him that Lucy’s spirit is up in heaven and that her body is here on earth. We explained that we can’t go actually see her, but we can see the spot where she is buried. These conversations are so hard. He listens and even asks questions, but it quickly reaches a point where he doesn’t understand and then he just starts playing with the nearest toy. I don’t blame him. It’s heartbreaking to have to try to teach your two year old about death.

It was a foggy morning as we drove to the cemetery. My heart sunk when we pulled in. We parked and headed into the office to buy some flowers for Lucy. Oliver wanted to help pick them out and put them in her vase. He’s so sweet and tender and would have been such a great big brother to Lucy. This continuously breaks my heart.

We drove out to her spot. She’s buried in a garden that is called, “Grace”. We love the name. It’s an appropriate reminder of what we are daily given. The spot we had picked for her is right next to a pretty, little tree; appropriate for our pretty, little girl.

Lucy’s marker looked great (sweet relief), it was was exactly what we wanted. Seeing it was a huge rush of both joy and sorrow. I’m here to confirm that you can fully feel two completely opposite feelings at once. A smile can spread cross your face as your eyes well up with tears, and there is room for both. Clearly, standing in front of your baby daughter’s grave, is pretty much the definition of sorrow. It feels horrible, wrong and unfair. But seeing her name big and bold, Lucy Mae Tomczak, reminds us that she’s ours and we are so proud that she belongs to us.

The boys put her flowers in her vase. It all looked beautiful. I was so glad to get to bring Oliver with us, he did great.

 “For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well.”

Psalm 139:13-14