A friend dies or leaves us: we feel as if a limb was cut off. ~Thomas Jefferson, third President of the United States
My “tiny” break lasted longer than I’d anticipated … longer, in fact, than any other break I’ve taken since starting this blog a dozen or so years ago.
Thank you for your patience.
When my mom passed in February, she was cremated as per her wishes, and I brought her urn back home.
It was frankly comforting to have her here. I was able to tell her when I saw something interesting in the news or spoke with someone who offered heartfelt memories of her. I was able to relax, knowing she was at peace and no longer in pain.
And I was able to discuss things with her, without having to hear her complain or disagree!
But our priest reminded me that I couldn’t keep her with me forever. That unexpected things (like fire, tornado, or theft) would put a huge dent in our little arrangement.
So I decided I’d better get her properly interred. In Mississippi. With my late dad.
Fortunately, my son Domer was able to get some time off from work, so we made the two-day road trip south with Mama’s urn.
Now you’d think going to such a lovely spot as the Mississippi Gulf Coast would be a fine vacation. I’m here to assure you our trip was not.
The temperature climbed into the mid- to upper-90s every day, with “feels like” temperatures in the 110s. And we were so focused on doing what Mama wanted that we failed to set aside time to walk on the beach, visit tourist attractions, take pictures, or go to the movies.
But we did eat. Very well, in fact. Fresh seafood, when you live inland as we do, is a supreme delight.
And we did shop. Funny how being in some of the same chain stores feels so different when you’re away from home.
And we took care of business, bringing my sis some of her Illinois things and returning with some things I’d left in Mississippi the last time Mom and I were there.
We also got Mom properly laid to rest, despite my last-second desire to tell the cemetery folks I’d changed my mind!
So, it was a good trip, though brief. And it’s great being back among the corn and bean fields, even if Beryl followed us home and dumped nearly five inches of rain here.
I might no longer have Mama’s ashes, but I’ll always have her in my heart.
Musings by an ND Domer's Mom 
I’m glad you got that taken care of and had a good traveling companion to help you. Welcome back and I pray you can move forward in peace now.
Thank you, Kelly. It was harder than either of us had expected. There’s something so final about seeing a loved one being slipped into a mausoleum. Not that I’d have wanted to keep her ashes forever, but I guess it was easier procrastinating that task!
Such a lovely post. Loved ones who have passed are always in our hearts and memories. As your poignant post beautifully illustrates. Sorry, though, about the heat. Hotter than heck in Maine, too, with high humidity and temps in the 90s. Ready for fall!
You, too, Laurie? Mercy, we’re under heat advisories here in Illinois, and it’s just been brutal. Even Monk puts off going outside to do his business (though thankfully, he isn’t doing that indoors, ha!!)
It’s been brutal in Maine, too, and we’ve had our own heat advisories. Thank goodness the heat has broken, and we are back to normal temps for Maine in the summer—in the 80s, low humidity, cool at night.
Debbie, your final sentence in this beautiful post touched me deeply because I could so identify with when I (and my mother and brother) did the same with my father’s ashes. And like you said, “I will always have her in my heart.” Amen!
Thank you so much for sharing this experience with us. It’s so great to have you back, my friend!
X
P.S. Hasn’t the heat and humidity this summer been brutal? I cannot WAIT for Autumn!
Ron, I’m glad my post resonated with you. It’s hard losing our loved ones (and losing them again when they’re actually buried). And while it might have been easier to do the services all in one day, I found comfort in knowing Mama was “here” with me a tad longer.
It’s good being back and settling in to a routine. I didn’t take my laptop with me, so needless to say, I’m playing catch up on blogs and email and such. Funny how the world spins without you while you’re taking a break!
Yes, yes, yes — our heat and humidity are ferocious! Poor Monk drapes across the A/C vents or in front of a fan, trying desperately to get cool. It must be confusing to him to go outside, bake for a few minutes, then come back in and find the cool air! Autumn can’t come soon enough (though I heard a report saying we’re ALL going to suffer through this misery until Fall is well underway — let’s hope they’re wrong!) xx
🙏🏼 💕
Thanks, Eliza!
You have fulfilled your mom’s wishes and hopefully that will give you peace. Welcome back.
Thanks for saying that, John. It does give me peace, knowing we did what she wanted. It’s nice to be back, too — I’ve missed everybody!
And we missed you as well. 😁
Aww, thanks!
😊
I appreciate that you shared your experience with us. Very good that you were able to travel with your son and share the final closure for peace with accomplishing your mother’s wishes.
I’m glad you are back to the corn and bean fields too with Monkey by your side!
Monkey’s especially glad I’m back — he had to go to the boarding “hotel,” and while they’re competent and nice, they don’t lavish cookies on him the way I do (meaning, he lost a few pounds, ha!)
Looking back, we probably should have waited until the weather cooled to get this done, but who knows when that’s going to happen? I think it’s going to stay hot and sticky for the foreseeable future. Sigh.
My parents were both cremated. The day after my mom’s funeral we received the ashes and spread them on her lake. Dad was killed in December and so we couldn’t spread his ashes until the next spring. He sat on my brother’s mantle for several months. I liked talking to him there.
it was very hard, both times to set them free in the lake. Hugs.
Dawn, I’m glad to hear that I’m not the only one getting comfort from talking to a parent’s ashes! Some people probably think it’s odd behavior, but they’re the ones who don’t truly appreciate the loving, close relationship we had with our folks. The Church doesn’t permit us to scatter ashes, but I can see how that would comfort you. My dad served in the Navy, and he’d have appreciated being part of the sea forever (though Mama would have drawn the line at that!) Thank you for your comforting hugs — here’s one from me and the Monk!
I know you must be not only missing your mom, but having to deal with the added things you had to take care of pertaining to her wishes and final burial. You were missed here! I pray for you having to adjust to your new normal in going forward with the wonderful memories of your mother.
There are so many new things to deal with…the heat, new political things, and covid still out there. We must all find a way to keep calm, exhale and release! We need the comfort of the 23rd Psalm. I pray that for you!
God bless you and keep you in His loving care!!!
Thank you, Tanya. I know you, too, understand. It’s hard being an orphan! There’s just something so final about seeing the urn go into the vault and knowing I probably will never see it again. Of course, it’s just an urn, isn’t it? And I firmly believe I’ll see both my parents again on the other side — won’t that be a grand reunion?!?
What a reunion! My husbands mom and dad adopted 3 severely mentally challenged children who becames adults. Two of them have passed and the last one will be going soon. I was thinking…when we all get to heaven they will be total whole and we will be able to have a conversation with them!!! Wow!
I am a orphan now too and when the last of my parents died I really felt that way. It was a strange feeling being that I was 68 at the time. I was like…I’m alone in this world. And now my husband and I are the elders in the family! Weird!
But like you said it a temporary separation!!! If Jesus returns we could see them real soon!!!
But at least you have this outlet to express your feelings. You have us your followers! We all care about you!
Oh Debbie, what a bittersweet journey. So necessary, but so painful, like a final letting go, but we never really bury our past. Your mom lives on within you, your sister and your son. I am reaching out to hug you today in friendship as you find the strength and peace within to go on.
Pat, I’m grateful I didn’t have to do this solo. I could have, but Domer was close with his grandma, and it was only right to let him be involved, too. Thanks for the hugs and be sure to give appreciation to your folks while you have them! Life is so short, and there’s never enough time to say all the things we want to say or do all the things we want to do.
That’s one thing I do miss about living by the sea, all the fresh seafood! I’m glad you got to enjoy some on your trip to lay your mother to rest next to your father. It was so special that your son could join you on your mission. Too bad it was so hot while you were there. It’s comforting to know our parents will always be in our hearts.
Barbara, that fresh seafood is a real draw to coastal areas. I’d hate fighting hurricanes, but that seafood *almost* makes it worthwhile! Just the other day, I noticed a guy in my area — on probably the hottest day of the year, no less — advertising “fresh seafood.” He didn’t have any takers. I can’t fathom how he expected that stuff to survive in all our heat and humidity … outdoors. My stomach protested merely at the thought!
Ugh, that doesn’t sound appetizing at all!
My father also chose to be cremated, and spreading his ashes was a mixture of emotions. I’m glad you were able to keep the urn for a while, and that the interment is now behind you. As you say, your mom will always be with you in your memories and in your heart, and that’s what really counts!
You’re so right, Ann. Memories *should* last forever, though it’s nice to have photos, mementos, scrapbooks, and other sorts of do-dads to help us remember! And at least I can still go visit her and Daddy — if, that is, I opt to make that long, hot trek again. Maybe after hurricane season!
Yikes! Speaking of breaks, I’ve been on an unintended one, as I mentioned to you on my blog.
Odd as it might seem, I really enjoyed this. It brought back a lot of memories. For one thing, I kept Mom with me from July until October, her ashes tucked in among her African violets. Before that, I would have thought such a thing a little creepy, but it wasn’t at all.
Like your mother, mine wanted to be buried next to my dad, so a similar trip was involved; you came south, I headed north, to Iowa. A friend went with me, and we had some of that glorious midwestern fall weather; it’s hard to believe now that we made that trip twenty-three years ago.
You got me giggling about Dixie Rose, too. I have her ashes in a pretty little box the vet provided after she was cremated. Deciding what to do with those is more complicated, for a purely irrational reason. I can’t bring myself to scatter her ashes, because she never wanted to go outside! And that reminds me of a woman I knew in Salt Lake City who told her kids not to scatter her ashes at the Great Salt Lake. As she said, “You know I can’t swim!”
We’re such funny creatures. I’m glad your task is complete now, and that Domer was able to go with you!