I will be sitting out in the congregation with sons 1, 3, and 4 surrounding me. I will squeeze #1's hand and he will put his arm around me, like he always does. I will look up at my bishop-husband and he will be teary-eyed, but I will feel comforted and good about everything.
My parents will be here from VA to say their goodbyes, and hellos to #1 who returned home in December. We will have people over for food and pleasantries and we will celebrate our son's decision to forget himself and go forth and serve. It will be a grand occasion, and I will be exhausted by the end of the day.
I can see it so clearly in my memory. We live in a little apartment in Pasadena, California. I pull up the blankets to his little freckly chin and ask him Who loves you? How do you know? Testing myself as much as I was testing him, to see if I was outward enough with my love toward my little redhead during the day. He would answer You. Because you give me food. Because you tell me.
That would do.