~ ~ ~

 

LACI WAS A mess before the funeral and her parents took care of her while my parents and I made the funeral arrangements. I was looking at the different coffins and trying to make decisions when my dad told me that he was going to be paying all the expenses. I started to protest, but he stopped me, and in an instant I knew to let him do what he could to help. I concentrated instead on picking out what we would want for Gabby.

Ashlyn was supposed to be in charge of the baby shower, but instead she helped with the funeral arrangements. She talked to me, tried talking to Laci, and relayed things to the minister for us. It was Ashlyn’s idea to play a song by Watermark at Gabby’s funeral. I had been listening to Christian music for over ten years and I’d heard songs by Watermark before, but I’d never heard this one. It was the perfect song to play and I was really glad that Ashlyn had thought of it.

It was called Glory Baby and it was sung to a little baby who had died. It told her to let Jesus hold her until Mom and Dad would be able to. It made me feel better to think of Jesus holding Gabby until Laci and I were there, but another image came to my mind too. I thought for just a moment about Greg and I pictured him holding my daughter and running his finger over her perfect little lips. When he smiled at her, I saw her smile back.

That made me feel better too.

 

 

 

Physically Laci still had to go through the same healing process that any woman goes through after giving birth, but usually they have a wonderful, healthy little baby to take their mind off of all the pain and discomfort that their body goes through. All Laci had to take her mind off of the physical pain was additional emotional and mental pain – the same pain that I was going through. It took all the prayers of our friends and family to get us through.

As the days wore on and slowly turned into weeks, we cried a little less and began trying to focus our minds on returning to Mexico. One week before we were set to leave, however, I suddenly remembered that we had reserved a third seat for Gabby.

A third seat.

An empty seat beside us on the entire flight back.

I went into the backyard so that Laci couldn’t hear me call the airline.

“I need to relinquish a ticket, please,” I told the lady who answered my call. She asked me for the reservation number and pulled our information onto her computer.

“Sir,” she said. “These tickets are non-refundable.”

“I know,” I said. “I don’t care about getting my money back, we just don’t need the seat and I was hoping you could fill it.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” she said. “If you’d purchased the insurance with them we’d be able to reassign your seat, but since you didn’t, there’s nothing I can do.”

“I don’t want my money back,” I explained again. “I just don’t need the seat and I want you to fill it . . . I want to relinquish the extra seat.”

“I’m sorry sir,” she said. “There’s nothing I can do.”

I hung up. I usually tried to avoid asking God for favors, but I asked for one now.

Please, God. Please don’t make us sit next to an empty seat for the entire flight back to Mexico. Please don’t make us be reminded of what we already aren’t going to be able to forget anyway . . .

I hit redial and a different woman answered my call.

“My wife and I are scheduled to fly out on flight 3847 to Mexico City on Tuesday,” I said. “We came home to have our baby, but our baby died and we don’t need the extra seat and I was hoping . . .”

“What is your reservation number, sir?” she asked.

“I don’t want my money back . . .”

“What’s your reservation number, sir?” she asked again.

I read off the numbers to her.

I could hear her tapping on her keyboard and then she was silent for a moment as she apparently studied our reservations.

“Sir?”

“I just want to relinquish our seat . . .”

“I understand that, sir,” she said. “The coach section has three seats in each row on the right hand side of the aisle and two on the left. I’m trying to see if there’s a pair of seats on the left . . .”

“If you could just fill the third seat . . .”

“First class only has two seats on either side of the aisle,” she went on, ignoring me. “Here’s a pair of seats . . . give me a minute.”

I could hear her tapping away some more.

“Sir?”

“Yes?”

“I have you and your wife seated side by side in the first class section. There will be no seat next to either one of you . . . empty or otherwise.”

I wanted to say thank you, but the words stuck in my throat.

“I’m very sorry for your loss, sir,” she said. And then, in a whisper, she said, “I’ll be praying for you.”

I hoped our call wasn’t being recorded for “quality assurance purposes” because I was fairly certain that she’d get fired if anyone heard her saying that to me.

“Thank you so much,” I whispered back and I was glad that the words didn’t get stuck in my throat that time.