Ashes to Ashes

I had been avoiding picking up my husband's ashes for a while now; I was scared to. I didn't know how heavy he would be, what he would be packaged in, or how I would feel once he was in my hands. Today was the day though and while it was excruciating...he is home now.

I didn't want to purchase an urn from the funeral home. None of them felt like the right choice. Whatever I put Jeff into needs to be absolutely perfect. On August 9, 2022, I was driving and Jeff was in the passenger seat; we were coming home from our meeting with our wedding planner. I'm unsure how the conversation developed, but as we drove down the mountain we were discussing what we wanted to be done with our ashes after we died.

I admitted to him that ever since my grandpa died, I had decided I wanted to be cremated and fed to a dolphin. I know...unrealistic...and I was in high school when I came up with that plan. Now, it sounds very disturbing for said dolphin. I told him I know that there are tree urns that you plant and you grow into a tree or that there is a way to be put with coral in the ocean and it helps to rebuild decaying coral. For more information on those visit the links below (these are not advertisements...I am just sharing information...my story continues below these...):

He liked the idea of being a tree or in the ocean. He said, "I don't want to sit on a shelf like my Dad."

His father's death was excruciating for him and it tormented him every day. I now understand that kind of grief. Jeff had so much inner turmoil over death and had a fury filling his veins over his father's death. I am starting to wonder if that is why he was so defensive over his beliefs. He said, "When I die, I'm dead and gone, just like any other mammal." He discussed philosophy and religion with many, but could never grasp the concept of there being something out there. Honestly, I find myself confused. I cannot definitively give a proclamation of my beliefs...because I am unsure as well.

When I walked into the funeral home today, the administrative assistant said, "let me go grab the bag." I had assumed I would be making two trips. I had dropped off keepsake urns for his siblings and mother to have and I assumed the remainder would be very heavy. She came down the stairs with one hand holding the bag and another hovering the bottom. When she handed the bag to me, she said, "let us know if you need anything else." I started to tear up once I felt the weight shift to my hands. I asked if the temporary "pending" death certificate was in there and she said, "yes." I was just in disbelief that everything was in this one dark blue canvas bag.

As soon as I got into the car, I started to lose myself. The tears flooded my face and fell onto the green sweatshirt I've been wearing off and on all week. I should probably wash it...I don't know why I keep wearing it...it has zero sentiment. I placed him on the front passenger seat and placed my hand on the black box inside the bag. I am unsure of what the feeling was, but it just came over me. Relief? Grief? I don't know.

I decided I needed to grab a coffee to get me through the rest of the day. I had planned on working from home and was taking care of our sweet Everly (1). So, I was going to need a pick-me-up. I started to sob, quite loudly, in the car. Once I started to pull into the Starbucks, I shook my head, wiped my tears, and gathered myself. At the drive-thru speaker, I was told they'd be right with me...since I was waiting, I braved taking the death certificate out of the bag. I wanted to see where it said the cause of death is pending.

Right when I started to choke up, "okay, sorry about that, what can I get you today?" Of course...I never should have looked at that. I cleared my voice, ordered, teared up again before getting to the window, shook it off, got my coffee and then bawled all the way home.

After I fed Everly lunch and got her settled, I decided it was time to look at the contents of the bag. I wanted to visually confirm that the keepsake urns weren't empty. When I opened one, I saw the contents and just bawled. I felt HORRIBLE.

It wasn't just that I was looking at my husband's remains...it was that I was looking at a portion of his remains. I felt immense guilt for separating him into different urns. Especially when I remembered that he didn't want to just sit on a shelf. However, gifting his family with part of him is very special and the right thing to do. I will go forth with this decision and make sure they receive part of the man they so deeply loved as well.

I closed the urn pretty quickly after I saw my confirmation. I put his portions down and I picked up the black box holding the majority of Jeff's ashes. I just held it, wrapped my arms around it and rested my head on the top and just swayed. I felt a sort of comfort knowing I was holding him and he was right there with me. I could wrap myself around him and just allow myself to 'feel' him. Once I had taken my moment, I set him down and opened the black container. His ashes are in a thick clear bag, with what I would describe as a animal tag with the name of the crematory and an ID number.

I wasn't sure what I expected of the contents, but they were different than my expectations. There are larger solid pieces in the ash than I imagined. In a way, it is nice, it looks like a unique ocean sand with shells. I could tell that the larger pieces were on top because they were probably the "bottom remains," because the other portion of the bag (I didn't lift it out, just could see) is more finely ground.

Someone said to me, "You can only hurt and grieve so deeply when you have loved so deeply." The immense agony, defeat, and exhaustion is debilitating. However, I do find comfort in that statement, because I believe it to be true.

Our love was like a fairytale...the kind you never really find in real life, but we did. We happened upon each other at the perfect time and I will always treasure that I was blessed enough to receive his love.