It's short, it's sad, it's personal. I thank you if you still decide to read it.
For River.
"You know, I didn't even know they made boxes that small," she said in a whisper. It was the first thing she'd said out loud in over two hours.
He took her hand and told her "Sara, it's not a box."
"It's a box," she said with a sad nod. "They put my tiny baby in a tiny box."
"Apples and oranges, Sara. There's a difference," he said, giving her hand a squeeze.
"Between a coffin and a box?" she asked.
"A box implies we don't care. He was around long enough to know that we did. We still do."
"Then…I guess I just didn't know they made coffins that small," she said, modifying her previous statement as her tears fell.
Not having anything to say to that since there was nothing to correct in it, Grissom just swallowed back his own tears and held her hand tighter. At least one of them had to have a brave face on for when people started showing up at the funeral to tell them how sorry they felt for them.
Those they were closest to from work showed up to show their respect, even Ecklie and the Sheriff. The ones that couldn't make it sent their apologetic words with the ones that could.
It lasted longer than either of them liked and too many times they both found themselves wanting to hit someone for apologizing for the untimely death of their son. No one could just attend and be on their way; they had to say they were sorry like there was something they personally could have done to have prevented it. But there was nothing any of them could have done. Lack of oxygen at birth and a short life on Earth was set for the boy.
With the funeral done and the day over with, they took all of the apologies and went home. Passing the bathroom up, soothing hot showers needed, but in no way wanted, they went straight to bed. Sara cried again and Grissom finally allowed himself to join her this time until they both fell asleep.
Not too long later, he woke up to hear Sara crying from down the hall. He hadn't expected any different; it had been the same routine for the last few nights since their son's death. Rubbing the old tears and the harsh sleep from his eyes, he climbed out of bed and headed towards the nursery to comfort his wife.
The creak of the door opening caught her attention, even over her sobs. He walked in and sat in the rocking chair next to the one she'd sat in and waited.
After a while of nothing but echoed sobs filling the room, she spoke up. "What are we supposed to do?" she asked. "Do we just give up?"
"No," he told her adamantly. "I say… I say we live life. We deal with the apples and oranges, and we see what happens."
Just like I said, short and sad. I'll go back to the humorous stuff now.
I'd really appreciate you reviews. Thanks.
thegreatbluespoon