Issue link: http://read.uberflip.com/i/301854
60 burial spot for my son. Each garden had a name and, as we drove, I thought about who these people are? Who buried them? Are there children here? Is there a teenager here somewhere? We drove slow- ly down winding paths and the funeral director said, "This is where the babies are.'' Babies? I never really thought much about who was buried in cemeter- ies or who had to go through this heartache just like me now, not until now. He continued talking and telling us the names of the gardens, "To the left is the garden of ''everlasting life,"' he said. Right when he said that, "everlasting life," it was like Bryant grabbed my arm and said, "Right here, Mom! This is where I want to be." It actually shook my insides I felt it so strongly. ''Right here!'' I said it OUTLOUD. "I want my son here in this garden across from the babies." Bryant loved kids so much and was always the one to have a posse of kids around him playing when- ever the situation arose. From there, we drove back to the funeral home and other little details were taken care of, but I don't remember much about it or maybe I do but just choose to forget. I know we had decided on the silver coffin, red roses and we picked out four bronze baseball gloves and baseballs that would at- tach to each corner of the coffin. I know visitation plans were made, but I have no idea who planned everything. The bronze gloves and balls would later be removed and given to the family as keepsake memories. I know we had been there for about five hours and, at one point, I got sick to my stomach and my husband, Wendell told me right away, "It's time to go, you've had enough.'' Back at Pam's, it seemed like more people had begun arriving, and so did a lot of food.