When I want to hold his hand this is the only answer. These tiny fingers, pruned up from his lifeless little body being kept cold as long as possible so that they could get the perfect castings. They’re so astonishingly beautiful, and yet such a sobering reminder of what isn’t. At times, looking at them, it is hard not to envision the process of them being made. Getting into the darker thoughts of what happens in the funeral home.
So, most times, what is more healing than holding his castings, are the moments in which his brother embraces me and says “Here’s a baby Sloan hug mama.” And you know what? He says it with EVERY hug he gives.
I know Sloan is within Rowan, just as he will be within Phoenix. Rowan has this deep bond with his brother that has never quieted, never lessened. It’s a comfort in more ways than anything else we have left of Sloan.