Now what?
So I'm stuck. There's that adage that those who love us never truly leave us and then there are the remnants of the hope that death is an finality and the end is the end is the end. Fifteen months later and I'm finding it hard to hold onto both or either of those. Our beloved family friend asked where we had put Heather's ashes. (She's on a bookcase shelf in her lavender bedroom in a ticky-tacky maroon velvet bag provided by the mortuary. I am in the process of designing a purple knit bag for the box to correct the situation. Ghastly color maroon!) This friend advised that the remains would be best interred elsewhere with other remains in a memorial park perhaps. My thought is that well, she's here. At home where she belongs. Dad sniffed out one of his most blunt responses, that despite being five words was as touching as he gets: "Wherever we go, she goes." and that does seem about right. My thought is that in my own case, part of myself will go with...