When Mike and I considered where to bury Sam, we thought a lot about it. We went to the cemetery in Smoot where his brother and step brother are buried and we tried to get a feeling for it. We talked about burying him in Smithfield so he would be close and we could visit his grave often. I always had the hope that he could be buried with my dad in Spanish Fork, but I didn't want to force that on Mike if it wasn't something he wanted.

After all the talking, that's what we came to decide. Then it seemed like the perfect place for our little Sam boy.

Now, almost 8 months later, I am trying to make the final decisions about headstones. It's on my mind a lot, and it is proving to be a complicated thing to commit to. Things are literally set in stone and that makes me all the more nervous about it all.

Anyway, the point of this post is this...

Today we drove right on past the cemetery in Spanish Fork as we travelled back from a great family reunion in Moab. My mom's little family was all together for a few fun days. The kids played in the sand and took fun hikes at Arches. We rented Jeeps and made all of our hearts beat a little faster as we climbed to incredible places. My mom had a little program for the grandkids so they could learn our genealogy from my dad's side of the family.

My dad is 1/2 Icelander. His grandpa came to America from Iceland and was a big part of the Icelandic community in Spanish Fork. It's great to teach the kids their heritage. After watching How to Train Your Dragon, they were all thrilled to know that they have Viking blood coursing through their veins.

So, it was a great weekend.

I thought of Sam a lot. I thought of how hard it would be to have an 8 month old on that kind of a trip. To tell the truth, I was mostly thinking that Allie and Jake were at perfect ages for this trip. They were old enough that they did great in the car with all the driving. They could hike on their own, and they were still thrilled with all the things that we did. Yet I frequently looked at how much fun we were all having and felt that feeling that I always feel. I feel like I am missing a part of our family. When we are having fun, I feel it the most.

So, as we drove past Spanish Fork on the way home, I got a lump in my throat as I thought of the huge part of our family that is over there in that cemetery. My dad would have been bursting with pride to see his grandkids reciting their ancestors names and eating Icelandic foods. He is missing out on some fun years!

And even though I know that Sam is in a better place, and that we will see him again, we still miss him here on this earth.

Mike asked me if I wanted to go to the cemetery as we drove past and I felt like a terrible mother when I said no. I haven't been there very often and he still doesn't have a marker. I guess the only excuse is that I made a connection with Sam's spirit while I was pregnant with him, and I knew that his body was just a shell for that spirit. When his spirit left his body, it was obvious to me that it was only a shell. Maybe that's why I haven't felt drawn to go to the cemetary often. Instead, I have a greater desire to visit the temple where I feel closer to his spirit.

So we drove right on by and I cried to think of how sad it is that my little baby is over there instead of tucked safely in a car seat next to Allie and Jake.

I think I will always have those little sad moments. Even if I feel like I am doing fine.

My solution? I am going to get that headstone ordered. If there is something there to mark his place, then I will feel a duty to go and make sure it always looks good.

I have always felt like the main purpose of visiting graves is to generate discussion about the loved ones that are there. We are always talking about Sam, so maybe that's another reason that I haven't felt drawn to visit often.

Anyway, this has been long and rambling and basically pointless, so I'll end it now...