May 11

I love weddings. And I re-he-heally love taking pictures at weddings. There's something about helping to commemorate special days that makes me happy in the purest sense possible. So when today began, I had a sea of potential possibilities for this entry: people laughing, smoking things up to White Wedding on the dance floor (which yes indeedy, is a staple at... ahem... Wight wedding receptions). There was also a first kiss, a beautiful dress, a sea of smiling children. So many ideas that I wondered how I'd ever be able to choose by day's end.

Yet despite my forethought, when the moment arrived, I knew exactly which image I would use. And I knew it the moment I picked up my phone to snap it.

This is, of course, a white rose. But it's so, so much more than a flower.

Shortly after Jenni and James' ceremony began, the pastor read off the names of a handful of relatives of theirs who had passed on. Logan's name was included. I wasn't expecting the mention, and it touched my heart. A few moments later, they left the altar, retrieved a bunch of white roses from a nearby vase, and began handing them out. I wasn't entirely sure what was going on until Jenni appeared at the end of our row and passed Adam and I each a rose.

As I fingered the petals and the grey ribbon tied around the stem, I knew I was going to cry.

See, Lambie, Logan's constant companion from his birth til his passage to the other side, made the trip with us to Idaho. He goes everywhere we go, in fact, though we didn't take him to the wedding itself. And part of me wished that we had, but fear of misplacing him compelled me to leave him in our hotel room. So when Jenni handed us those roses, it felt like he was with us. The wedding and reception wound up being so much fun, but it was that one small gesture that meant absolutely everything to me. It satisfied my primal, desperate need to know that my son is missed and remembered. And for that, I am grateful beyond words.