I am supposed to wear glasses all the time. I have a slight astigmatism that makes me unintentionally squint and leaves me with a pretty terrible headache at the end of the day. I see just as clearly without them, but the strain on my eyes is pretty terrible. The glasses, however, have become a huge hassle. I’ve had oily skin since I was in high school. Pregnancy did absolutely nothing to help. For the last five months, my glasses have sat on my oily nose and driven me crazy. The feeling is terrible so I keep them on my head unless I’m focused on something specific. 

Since Morgan is in between commands and I have nothing pressing going on, we’ve been sleeping quite late and letting our schedule fall to pieces. Today, a phone call woke me up abruptly. Someone told me their name, company, and asked how I was. Half asleep and a bit confused, I answered that I was good and asked how they were. At the end of my sentence, I realized that the woman was calling from the funeral home. She answered very hesitantly that she was doing okay and told me that Cory’s ashes were ready to be picked up. I thanked her and hung up. 

On our way to the funeral home, my glasses were driving me nuts. I was determined to read a long Washington Post article about the immigration ban though, so I pushed them to the very tip of my nose. I was deeply engrossed in what I was reading. The radio was playing and Morgan said something that didn’t really register. Suddenly and shockingly, he started laughing. It wasn’t a fake laugh or a polite laugh or a stifled laugh. It was a gut-busting, loud, unrestrained laugh that knocked me out of my focus. I looked over at him in shock while he continued laughing hysterically. I looked around, searching for whatever he thought was so funny. It took him a long moment to regain his composure. He choked out, “Your glasses!” It took me too long to realize that my glasses were barely hanging off the edge of my nose and that I must have looked ridiculous. He could not contain himself and started to laugh again. Slightly embarrassed but mostly amused, I laughed with him. 

After a moment that seemed to stretch on forever, we quieted. The emotions that we have both been carrying for two weeks made our laughter more than a little manic, but such a relief. Walking into the funeral home to pick up our baby was horrific, but a bit easier knowing that his memory will not be one only of pain and loss but also of joy, love, and hope.