Delivered within 72 hours of each other: my dog’s ashes and my mom’s ashes.
I’m trying not to think about it, but it creeps in every once in awhile. The whole process seems labored, heavy (like the box my mom came in) and filled with people talking to you carefully.
I was miserable yesterday afternoon. We are have one car, and Ben had to work, and I was stuck at home. I was hot and annoyed and hungry and PMSey and did I mention hungry?
On the way to the Dodger game, Ben was teasing me. “Wait, are you saying it is your time of the month and you haven’t eaten anything and you are emotional? Well that makes no sense at all. That is just crazy.”
But all last night I kept thinking about it. I mean, yes, it was crazy. Low blood sugar and Schacters is a Defcon 5 situation. Add some powerful lady-hormones and of course I went insane. But did I? Wasn’t it a valid reaction to my current situation? I mean, really, aren’t emotions valid reactions to reality? I guess if I wasn’t really hungry or hormonal or hot I could see how I might be considered nuts, but I was scientifically, legitimately all those things.
So what do I scientifically, legitimately know right now? I know I have human remains in my house. I know I feel responsible for them and also resentful that I have to deal with them. I know that my throat hurts and that money is tight and that Harry needs to be walked and fed.
I also know that my mom is not acutely on my mind. I miss the acuteness. I miss holding that death in my hands and being able to see all sides of it. I hate how random grief becomes, how it goes away and naps and recuperates and kicks your ass when it shouldn’t.
I have until late September to come to terms with the ashes.
