Today was rough, but ok. My sister picks me up and then she and my mom and I
pick up my MIL and FIL (who I absolutely adore). We have a good cry in the
parking lot of their hotel. MIL looks rough. FIL is a lovely,
in-touch-with-his-emotions man who has been a Mormon Bishop (kinda like pastor)
and they are currently serving a mission together. Anyway, he's dealt with a lot
of death.
We talked a lot on the way, FIL tells stories - that's how he
communicates - in stories. Most of them have humor and the light laughter helped
break some of the sorrowful tension. We get there, and I prepare them again to
what they will and will not see.
We get to the Cremation Society, they
show me to the room. His body, his entire 6'4" body is covered in a heavy white
cloth of some kind, his once huge hands seem small. The table is not that large
and everything seems wrong. I touch them and the are very, very cold. Like
winter, no gloves cold. And the color is wrong and waxy. I only was in there for
a minute or two. All I could say, over and over is "oh Babe". I realize that he
is not there, and I cannot stay, so I go. His parents go in, they look rough. I
sit at the table and tears leak out of my face, shock again I suppose. MIL and
FIL follow, then my mom, then my sister. She asks if I wanted her to take the
clay I brought and make an imprint. I say no, because they are making me a print
for a chain (I pay for this, but I needed it). I wanted to imprint a scar on his
hand, but I couldn't. It didn't seem right, somehow. I've now been without him
for 5 days.
MIL asks if he can be held until one of his sisters gets
here. I had to tell her no. They won't embalm/they encorage against it at this
stage because there is so much damage from the donation services. I tell her
he's not there. I tell her that I didn't think his hands would bring her
closure. She understood because his hands have certainly not brought her
closure.
They bring in a package. It is thank you materials for the
donation. It occurs to me why he's so small, they have taken his major bones for
other people. I do not say this out loud. I tell them how sorry I am that I was
unable to save him. I say I know it was not my responsibility, but I adored him.
I miss him a lot. There is a lot of crying.
FIL starts in with more
stories, he is stressed, this is how he copes. MIL has her eyes closed and is
breathing to not sob (and I believe to not yell at him for going on). His
talking is a comfort until he talks religious stuff (I really dislike Mormonism)
but I let him finish. What he says is similar to the "Physicist speaks at a
funeral/we are all energy" thing I want read. I explain that religious stuff
isnt' comforting now, but that may change. I love these people, I don't want to
hurt them. We talk more, tell more stories. We laugh. We cry. We mourn. We were
there for 2 hours, with maybe 10 minutes of viewing. I can still feel his
hands.
We drive to get lunch. In the car, FIL tells me that he hopes that
someday I will marry again. MIL glares at him, "NOT NOW DEAR", but I know what
he means. Someday, maybe. They fall all over themselves telling me that they
want me to know that I am still part of their family. And I know. More stories,
the funny ones now. The one of my mom feeling me up - that embarasses my FIL and
makes me laugh harder for it. MIL liked that too. We are kindreds. We make a few
plans for the memorial. They talk of flying me to SLC to the family memorial, my
huge in-law family wants to embrace me and I will let them. I want them to heal
too. I am the embodyment of him now. He was the first grandchild, when his aunts
were very young, they adored him.
I jingle now. I have his ring on a
chain on my neck. I feel like a puppy with my jingling. Amusing and also sad. We
all notice when I move and make the sound of metal against metal. We make plans
for the rest of the week. Selling his car, going to the spice store, going to
FIL's fav restaurant in town (he is a foodie), spending time with my nephew who
remembers and loves them. Back in the car, more stories, more memories, mostly
happy. We drop them off, more hugs.
I am home alone and there is solace
in that. This will be my existance for quite awhile and it feels good to know I
can do this place on my own, though I won't for long. I am going to move away,
to the coast, to restart my business, my life. I am happy to be going back to a
place where there are friends who remember him. Where the ocean will help
soothe.
I am ok. Never whole again, but ok. This will take time.
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