On A Serious Note

I went to a funeral today for a little baby who died two weeks before his due date. Somehow his cord got knotted by his belly and cut off his life from his mother. It's apparently quite rare, which doesn't make his mom feel any less guilty.

His mother is on state aid. Thankfully, the state picked up the tab for the service and the plot and the tiny little white casket he was buried in. There should never be caskets that tiny. However, they didn't pay for the headstone. Apparently, they never do. As I stood behind his mom while the pastor blessed him and said the awful words of "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust" I looked out over the "Public Aid Baby Cemetary" and saw a handful of plastic spikes with namecards on them - those are the babies whose parents couldn't afford a headstone.

I always wanted to win the lottery so I could buy a sweet house in Florida or a Mercedes Benz SUV like the Jenner/Kardashians. Now I just want to win it so I can start a savings account to give those babies headstones.

I'd like to think I made a difference today by offering to buy baby Jace's headstone for my friend. It's a small offering but the other nametag garden spikes still haunt me...