ashes to ashes

I picked up my dad’s ashes yesterday. A very surreal experience indeed. I called my mom to tell her I had them and said “It’s a pretty small box for such a big asshole.” First, I cannot believe I said that but it’s truth. She didn’t seem too shocked. I am, after all, opinionated and don’t keep it to myself very well either. Plus, I absolutely hate the myth that just because they’re dead, it makes them wonderful. The truth about my father is this: He was an angry man. He was obstinate, opinionated, mean, abusive and it only got worse as he got older and more deaf. None of that changes the fact that he was my dad and that contrary to my wish, I still loved him. I’ve written here this week how my dad’s last two weeks were a gift to my mom and me too. That is truth for me as well. I am so grateful for this gift. It is soothing to have a good memory to hold on to instead of just the bad. The box of ashes affected my daughters in different ways. K made jokes about it and cried later about how she felt awful because she didn’t say anything to grampa except goodbye. We talked about her feelings and I made sure she knew that just because she didn’t like him most of the time, it didn’t mean she wasn’t going to feel anything about his death. He was still her grampa and he was a big part of her life and she is going to feel the loss. A began crying immediately. She is such a tender heart. E just looked at the box with an amazed expression. She cries in private and is lately excited about the upcoming prom so it’s helping take her mind off it all. We talked about all this in our bereavement group last night too. Tough stuff to be sure.


One response to this post.

  1. Hang in there girlie! You can do it. And when the darkness sets in as it always does, day to night, night to day, remember that the dawn is right around the corner. Ready for a new beginning.



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