Blue bells and bleeding hearts
Clarissa Munger Badger/Biodiversity Heritage Library/CC
Tonight at 9:02, it will be a year since mom passed. I miss her every day. In some ways so much has changed. In other ways, nothing has changed. I still feel guilty for reasons known only to mom and me — and Dan, Dad, Granddad, Grandmama, mom’s dad (I have no idea what I would have called him.) Let’s just say, I don’t expect to see any of them when my time comes.
With Dan’s birthday three days away, I’ve been thinking about Mom and Dan. I’ve been thinking about them a lot and two thoughts have occurred to me.
First, they have given me my new mantra: Not to worry; a good rain will take care of that. I’ll use it after the mantra I stole from “Miss Congeniality:” Dali Lama, Dali Lama, Dali Lama.
Last August, as I scattered their ashes, I was once again hit with the realization that cremains are not like fireplace ashes. When Dan was cremated, some of his ashes were set aside for me to place with Mom’s once she was gone. (Yes, her wishes, not Dan’s, but I don’t think he’d be upset. I don’t think he thought of the possibility.) The rest were scattered by his executor and friend, Harley. I wasn’t in Kansas City when it was done, so it didn’t occur to me that, unlike fireplace ash, cremains don’t just melt away. Continue reading