Back in July, I tried to get in touch with the hospital to see when I'd be getting Dad back. I never heard anything from them aside from a "we'll call you next week" and a month goes by. Today, I sent Jac out to get the mail and he asked, "What did you order that weighs so much??" I noticed a much smaller package from Stardust Memorials (the urn) on top and then it clicked what was so heavy. Dad's ashes.
It is odd to think that he fits in a small box. I opened it to see what sort of container he was put in and it was just a little plastic box with a bag of ashes. Cue emotional overload. Things felt heavy. A few weeks ago I was sorting through my Box of Things and came across some letters Dad had written me while I was in college. He put in little comic strips from newspapers, or he'd type something silly or something meaningful. He always signed his name in ink, though. I had a good cry in my closet while Zac had all the kids on a Door Dash delivery. It was refreshing and sad and something I think I needed. I haven't really let myself grieve my dad like I did for Emily.
This evening, I brought the ashes to Mom's. It was weird. I put my purse on the box, which triggered some emotion because Dad used to hold my purse for me if I needed to use a public bathroom or carry a baby, or something else. He never minded that, but it was like pulling teeth for him to purchase feminine products. Anyway, I got to Mom's and she put him on a shelf in her closet until she can go get the ashes divided into various containers for people.
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