Monday, January 25, 2010 at 10:19pm |

So we went to the funeral home today to pick Mom up. How appropriate the funeral home is behind the Krispy Kreme! AND it’s a hop, skip and a jump from the bowling alley Mom used to bowl at on Thursdays. The ironies just never cease. Not really, but I thought it was funny.

It wasn’t weird at all. It wasn’t a thing where I’m consumed with the thought that Mom is in a little box. No, it was more like I had a box with, say, her jewelry or her makeup bag in it. You go in the door and the lady that owns the place, Heide, is very warm and friendly and it’s like she’s welcoming you into her gift shop or something. It’s like you go into places like that on a daily basis to pick up your mother’s earthly remains-not like it was anything out of the ordinary.

Like most people I know who make their living in the funeral business, the Crawfords have a great sense of humor (I guess you have to to be in that business) and we exchanged some funnies about why I was there. The guy asked me if I was going to talk to her. This posed an interesting question.

I’ve said before I don’t feel a really strong connection with graves (other than historical signifigances cause I do love to go to cemeteries and photograph things) where my family is concerned. The Bible tells me that my Mom and Dad are in Heaven enjoying their Rewards. I believe that just as fiercely as Ted Williams’ daughter believes that someday she, her brother and her dad will be unfrozen and be a happy, thawed out family. We’ve already covered that here so I shall not bore you with that tangent again. You get my point.

I’ve never really “talked” to my father. Not a thing wrong with that but it’s not something I’ve ever done. I think about him a lot. Every single day, he is in my thoughts. I didn’t think I would address the Box directly.

Tara and I take the Box and get to the car. The first thought is “front or backseat?” We went with the backseat.

We drive along and we turn a corner and the box slid on the floor. I said something like “Keep still, Mom.” Tara decided to put the Box in her lap after that. I asked her if that was going to freak her out, traumatize her and scar her to the point that she’ll need serious therapy someday. She assured me it wouldn’t.

We went back to Mom’s house. I put the Box in Mom’s chair and put some boxes of Marlboros on top of it. That was her favorite place to smoke. I need to put a can of Folgers next to it. We put a coffee cup on the table next to her chair, with her glasses, her lighter. Sily, maybe but we laughed and we figured somewhere, Mom was laughing at it, too.

We sat there for a good while in Mom’s den. We retold things to each other from the last couple weeks. Seems like every other sentence we’d say how we couldn’t believe that less than two weeks ago, Mom was there and now she’s gone. Seems to be the thing to do.

I’m going to work tomorrow. It will be good to be back in the routine and start the task of living everyday life like before, although life is not exactly like it was before. Even so, life goes on. As it should.

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