This evening it will be a week since HP died. It seems so much longer, but now we have been through all the days of the week. It goes like this. Then a whole month, then a year, so the cycle of the year is completed.
This afternoon HS and I go to collect HP's ashes and bring them home. HS has some great ideas about scattering them in a way that HP would like and probably find funny, too. But we have to wait till this giant storm is over. Days of torrential rain with more days to come, flooding all over the place, and I hope we can get over the roads between here and the funeral place.
The hospital bed and mattress are leaving either today or tomorrow, to go to an old couple one of whom desperately needs them. His clothes are going tomorrow to a homeless shelter, whose worker will pick up tomorrow, with great thankfulness. Aside from the usual tshirts and shorts and suits, there are winter boots and a good stormcoat and good sweaters and legwarmers and wristwarmers, mittens, all that, very useful to men who are outside in winter weather.
And I fired the tv service, thankfully. The thing about having worked in television is that you don't much like seeing it at home. It's like driving a bus all day then going home and driving your relatives around all evening. The pressures of that life stay with you forever, and come back with each glitch you see on the screen. Not a change! but I had it running for HP since he loved his sports and news programs and it was his only evening entertainment, so I gritted my teeth and knitted!
If I want to see the small screen, I'll slip in a movie from the library.
I'm really sorry for HS, because not only does he have his dad's death to deal with, his longed for week's vacation, supposedly taken with daytrips to the shore, is instead pinned down by torrential rain day after day. He's a man of inner resources, so I've no doubt he'll manage, but I did want him to just loaf on the beach this week.
so that's us!
I will be making a post about memories and fun stuff about HP and about him and me, and him and HS and me, and I want to give blogistas a headsup, those of you who have known me or all of us for years, in case you want to chime in with something you want to say about his life and times. Probably I'll be able to do that tomorrow or whatever the next day is, the calendar is a bit foreign to me at the moment.
My mom was cremated. Her ashes were put in a tough little plastic bag with no opening. If the ashes are to be placed in a box or an urn, it's the little bag of ashes that you will find in the box or urn. I was told by the funeral home guy that the plastic bag was standard practice. You can't tear it with your fingers. You need a blade to cut it open.
ReplyDeleteI'm telling you this in case HS is planning a sprinkling like in the movies. Dealing with the bag is one step the movies don't show. It's not a difficult thing to take care of right before the sprinkling or pouring ceremony, and it's only "gross" if you choose to think of it as "gross," but I did just want to mention it in case you and HS didn't know about the bag.
I drove from West St. Paul to the funeral in Winnebago, MN (135 miles or so) with my mother's cremains (ugly word, imo) in a large marble box that filled the passenger seat. When I stopped at the funeral home to pick up the cremains, I had forgotten that I had a trunkful of stuff I had packed up to take to Goodwill, so the funeral home people had to put mom on the passenger seat. When I got on my way, I looked over at the box and realized that the guy had put the seatbelt on over the box as you would for a person. I got the giggles.
Another thing that often isn't mentioned is that the box of ashes will be heavy. I will always remember my Da crumbling when he was given the box with my brother's ashes... perhaps he would have anyway, it was a tough time for us all but for my parents particularly, but I think Da was a bit blindsided.
ReplyDeleteI am thinking of you, dear Lxx (and thanks for the note).
In true Liz style, you've accomplished an amazing amount in a week. "Only" ... what a heavy word when it refers to loss. Such good and thoughtful info shared in the above posts. For me it's the unexpected little things that buckle my knees when I'm already full to overflowing. Thinking of you both, Liz.
ReplyDelete(( hugs ))
I think that time is a relative thing and I am glad to hear that you are doing well. Sorry about the storm holding up the process, I hope it blows over soon.
ReplyDeleteExtremely happy to heat that all the stuff will be taken care of by tomorrow.
Take care.