Today was already a bit of a blue day before I went to get the mail. I don't know why. That's part of the fun and excitement of grief I suppose - you just never know what mood you're going to be greeted with when you open your eyes in the morning. Today it was blue.
I stumbled my way through the day anyway, doing laundry, cleaning the bathroom, writing postcards I should have written from the place we made our escape to while we were actually there, making dinner, cleaning the kitchen. The usual.
And then I went to pick up the mail. Amidst the usual assortment of flyers, real estate brochures and coupons was a letter addressed to Mr. Thomas Z____. It stopped me dead in my tracks. A letter for Thomas - a letter for my boy.
It only took me a second to figure out what it was.
A few months after Thomas died we got a rather frantic sounding note from the city saying his birth hadn't yet been registered. Apparently the hospital should have taken care of it but didn't. I don't know why, but I would prefer to think it wasn't because he died. I would prefer to think it was just the oversight of a weary clerk who let it slip through his fingers somehow, because I hate the idea of the powers that be at the hospital thinking he wasn't worthy of being registered just because he lived for less than a day.
Anyway, after I got the frantic note I filled out the papers, paid the $25 fee to have the country recognize Thomas as a person born into it and sent it off. And promptly forgot about it. The letter that came for Thomas today was a notice that his birth had been registered.
Thomas is a legally recognized Canadian citizen. He's on record as being someone who lived, albeit painfully briefly.
The letter included instructions for ordering his birth certificate, if we so desired. I think I so desire. I want every single little scrap of paper I can have that proves my son was born. I want to have every bit of documentation I can to show to anyone who will look at it. I want more than just his death certificate (of which we have two for some reason) because I want to think of him as someone who lived, not just as someone who died.
I know ordering his birth certificate won't bring him back, but it's one more thing I can do. It's one more link to him.
My work isn't done yet. Thank God.