A gentle wind blows rippling the grass and rustling the leaves on the trees. There is the murmuring of voice, the sound of shovels scraping earth, and the bone chilling sound of earth hitting the casket.

But all I hear is silence. I press his warm, small body against my chest. I lean my cheek against his head and kiss him gently. And that's when the tears fall. Silently, streaming down my cheeks. His body is warm against mine, against my frozen heart. He stares at me his eyes wide; his hand brushes my cheek, wiping the tears. He's too young to understand yet the gesture is sweet. I smiled sadly.

"Daddy loved you," I told him.

He smiles at me his pudgy hand still on my cheek, his large brown eyes gazing into mine.

"He would want us to be happy," I continued whispering in his ear, his wispy curls tickling my chin. Even so, I cannot stop the tears tracking down my cheek.

I feel a hand in mine and look to see my mother giving me what she believes is a sympathetic look. I want to pull my hand out of her but as a mother I know I would never want my son to do that to me. Instead I stiffen my stance.

The funeral is a blur of colors, sounds, and people. I see people nodding their heads at me, giving me their condolence. Prompted by my mother, I nodded in response. The only thing that is real to me right now is the little body clasped in my hands. And the pain in my heart.

Slowly the crowd thins. My mother slides her hand away.

"Come on honey," she says.

I finally face her and force the words out of my mouth. "I'm coming... in a minute. Can you wait by the car?"

"Of course," she agrees.

I wait until her figure is a tiny speck of black in the distance. I gently put my son down and then I crumple to the ground in front of the freshly dug grave. My fingers paw at the dirt, desperately, calling my husband's name. As if I'll find him in the dirt. As if suddenly he'll come up and wrap in his embrace and whisper in my ear that everything will be alright. The pain in my heart intensifies. The tears cloud my vision, the sobs wracking my entire body. And then I'm falling, falling.

I bury my head in the freshly overturned dirt. "Take me with you," I mumble. "Please, I can't live without you. Please."

It's hard to think coherently, it's hard to breath. I cough. And then I feel a hand on my shoulder.

"Mamma?"

My heart stops. It's the first word he's ever spoken. In this moment I know that I will do whatever it takes to survive for him, for my son, for my husband's son, for our son. I lift my head and look at him. He stares at me, holding my gaze with his warm brown eyes that are now filled with tears. He points to the grave and says,

"Dadda?"

It's the first time he's said that too.

I nod as the tears choke me. He waddles over to me and wraps his arms around my knees, squeezing himself against me.

"Come honey, Grandma is waiting at the car."

He steps back as I stand up and brush the dirt from my knees. I lifted him up and he throws his arms around my neck.

"I love you Sweety, so much. So does Daddy."

"Dadda," he repeats.

I turn around for one last glance.

"Goodbye Ezra," I whisper, "I love you."

The wind rustles through the leaves as if it's whispering with me, as if it's taking my words up to heaven. And I swear I can hear a whisper in return.

"I love you too, Aria."