It’s Wednesday. Otherwise known as the day I visit Isabella. I go out and kiss her plaque and say, “Hi Baby.” I sit down and a talk to her for as long as I need to. Sometimes I’m there 5 minutes and I leave because I never want the conversation to be forced. Other times I’m there for what seems like forever.
When we knew that we were nearing the end, I felt like the decision on what to do for her was simple to me. I made a hard stance that I wanted to have her cremated
. This is also what I want for myself because the thought of coffins wig me out. I put Stuart and my Father-in-law on the details because I couldn’t handle them. I really had to not think about what was actually happening or I wouldn’t go through with it. Wherever this process was going to be done, it needed to be a place that I never would know the name of or a building I would never drive by. Where she would be placed was left to them as well. I knew what I could do during this time and these decisions were something out of my realm of possibilities. When the van came to get her the morning that she passed away, I felt myself quickly becoming unsure of my decision. How could I do this to my little girl? I kept telling myself that the thought of her in a box underground was just not something I agree to do. I would watch her and Grant play with big boxes for fun and I recall them wrapping each other up in these boxes. All fun and games until the top is closed. Then only a couple of seconds would go by until they had to burst out of the top. The fear of being contained. These moments in play told me from the beginning that this is the route I would take. It’s not like she was a 80-year-old woman who wanted to be buried alongside or on top of the husband she was with for 60 years that passed a couple of years earlier. This was different. Or so I told myself.
The waiting process was horrible. Watching her drive away in the back of some rapist looking white van. I knew where she was going but had to sit in agony for the next couple of days, or what felt like weeks until I was told the process was complete. I died a hundred times over during those days because I didn’t know where she was, who was with her or all the fears that she is not being handled with the respect that she deserved, etc.. But then we received word that she had been “delivered” to Calvary. And just like that she was gone.. again.
And while the decision felt to right at the time… I regret it every day now. I want so badly to come out to Calvary to visit her and lay out a princess blanket or a big little giraffe blanket she would have loved and lay on the grass above her. So much of our relationship was built by laying together. We laid together so much in fact that she became my favorite sleeping partner. She would lay so still and quiet. She would slip right into whatever curves of your body were against hers and just fall asleep. It one of the things that everyone loved about her.. her ability to cuddle up to just about anyone.
This last year I have tried to lay against people. Grant thrashes all over the place. I practically wake up with a black eye. Sophia has to be nose to nose with her hand resting on your cheek. Very cute actually but can at times invade your personal space. Even Stuart and I fell asleep for YEARS spooned together in bed. Stuart twitches as he falls asleep so I can barely let him do it for more than 2 minutes now without shaking him off. For years I had a permanent perfect person to lay next to me and now she is ash in a gold box.
I’m sure that the grass is always greener.. no pun intended. If I had chosen the other way, it too would have had its negatives. The though of what the earth was doing to my child or this tiny box. All those horror movies you watch with people being buried alive and freaking out and screaming as bugs and dirt started to seep in. These images would haunt me for years.
Truth is, both of the options are horrible and I need to keep reminding myself of that. There was no good decision to make or any way that I could be connected again to her when it’s my time. Maybe I will squeeze my ashes in the gold box with her so it would be like we became one again. The way it felt when we would lay beside each other what seems like an eternity ago.
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