Mom’s Ashes

My mom did not die in her home town.  A few years before she got sick my mom moved to a small town a little over two hours away.  Luckily, she wanted to be cremated.  I thought that was fitting considering how much of a prison her body had been for her.  My mom had asked that I scatter her ashes around some plants, flower, or in a park during a nice spring day.

The problem was getting her ashes.  I refused to make the drive knowing I would be a blubbering mess knowing her remains were in the care with me.  That does not bode well for a long distance drive.  At the time, my fiancé was not able to get off of work.  No one was able to help me.

I had the option of having her ashes mailed to me.  This was a perfect solution for me.  Except that it wasn’t.  I really felt alone after my mom died.  Not even six months prior to that we lost my aunt rather unexpectedly.  The loss of them both tore my family apart.  Certain people seemed to check on others.  I was left in the dark and alone.  My fiancé was wonderful.  I just didn’t understand why my family abandoned me.  Yes, I am an adult.  We all are.  Apparently I just didn’t matter.

It took me a long time to give the written permission for my mom’s ashes to be mailed to me.  I was terrified they would arrive on a day when I had to work that night.  At the time, I worked nights as a nurse.  I just couldn’t deal with that.  So, I waited.  Eventually, I resigned the position knowing I needed a change and not knowing what that change was yet.  I have no regrets there.  Still I did not send for her ashes.

One of my mom’s friends checked with the funeral home about it and the truth was out.  They still had her ashes.  I explained to her I know my mom deserved better but I was having a hard time dealing.  I felt like I had lost almost all of my family and her at the same time.  I finally sent for the ashes.

One day, our doorbell rang.  My fiancé always answers the door.  He is kind of protective.  When I saw the box, I immediately knew what it was.  I backed away and had a small inner panic attack.  I told him what they were and I couldn’t deal with it yet.  I just couldn’t.  For the time being, I placed them in what is my office/art studio.

One day I finally got up the courage to open the box.  Something just told me it was time.  I was afraid of what the inside was going to look like.  I remembered how my dad’s looked and knowing how tiny my mom was…. well it scared me.  It wasn’t as bad as I thought.  She was in a black box with her name on a gold plate.  She would have hated the gold plate part.  As silly as it sounds, I hugged the box and told mom how much I miss her.

One day, if spring ever does come, I will spread her ashes as she asked me.  Yes I am a couple of years late but heck I was overdue when I was born.  Either way I will still honor my mom.

–Sarah Cobblepexels-photo-208315.jpeg

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