I remember driving to the Funeral home with Ron to see Ryan’s body just before his cremation.

Just the two of us, Ryan’s mom and dad. His parents. That’s all we were to anyone that day. As we entered a cold storage room, I remember thinking to myself,

“How could they be so insensitive to have let us spend our very last moments with our little boy in such an unfriendly, frigid environment?”  

All there was was a child-sized makeshift,  cardboard coffin. It stood solitary in the middle of a room. It was a stark reminder of how Ryan died in the car. Alone. Seeing the box screamed there would be no more talks, hugs, and laughter from our little Ry-Ry.

We both gasped and crumbled. I have to admit it was surreal and unbearable that our little boy’s body was inside a cardboard box.

We cried out to God,

“What kind of love is this that you would rip him out of our hearts as if he’s better off with you?”  He’ll tell you himself, he’s better off with us.

 Some of you are wondering, “How much of him was left after the fire?”  Do you really think we opened that cheap container? All we could do was cry and say goodbye to the little boy in the box.  The only one more damaged than Ryan was me.

All is lost!

ryan’s mother