This morning I went to the funeral home and collected my dad's ashes. I have driven past for a week or two, knowing he was there and imagining that he was calling me to remind me that he was there and please could we get him and take him somewhere a bit more homely before we scatter him. Fanciful I know, but in these things we are allowed to be imaginative and even ridiculous because it makes us feel better, or worse and even feeling worse is gloriously self indulgent and if you can't be that at a time like this then PPPPPTTTTTTHHHHHHHH.
Everything to do with dad's goodbye is for my mum to decide, we can have our opinions and desires but they are to be kept to ourselves until she says what she needs and then we can fall at her feet and say "thank goodness" because she is always right and we all love what she wants.
She has been sadder these past few days, since her darned old car just withered and died in the middle of the road as she reversed out of her drive and since she fell in her beautiful but steep and treacherous back garden that she loves.
Cars have the power to make women tremble when they go wrong, mine is still very sick but I am ( hoorah again Ebay) in the process of having her made well and able to trundle us through another year. Mum's is a part of her, it is as old as mine but has been to many more places and has been loved and cared for by dad and his garage of choice. Never before has mum had to think about what noises mean or why it has stopped dead in the middle of the road. Having such a thing happen and not having dad to tell her what the problem was and it's OK because it's fixed now is not alright. It makes me want to turn up at her house with a shiny new car that will have unheard of before things, like warranties and phone numbers to call if it so much as coughs.
Falling down in your garden when you have made your poor joints scream with pain for days because it keeps you busy and not thinking of how sad it is that dad isn't there to cut the grass and do bloke like stuff and take the cuttings to the tip so you ask your kids which is horrible because you never ask your kids to do anything, even though your whole life has been spent doing things for them, is never alright. It makes your aching legs wobble and your heart sad and even sitting on the lovely bench dad put there and oiling it and planting lovely roses next to it won't stop the tears coming. Good thing too. Good thing that you have a son in law that is a landscape gardener that comes and looks and tells you what he IS going to do to make the garden a bit safer to be in.
So, quite a bit of sadness about dad this past week or two, knowing we are going to scatter his ashes has made us all feel that raw pain again too, not that it's gone away yet of course, but it's bringing a new wave along. Talking to mum about her being sad and me being sad and mentioning that actually I think dad wants out of the pleasant funeral home and can he come home please just for a week? She said of course and would I collect him. Yikes. This morning, after my invigorating and healthy walk to school and back, I went into the funeral home, trying not to look like I was sweating ( even though I was but it was drizzling too, so hopefully they thought it was the rain).
I did much talking to myself in order to be calm and not throw myself on the rather tasteful blue sofa in the waiting room and wail. I took deep breaths and told myself to be British and find that stiff upper lip. And there he was. In a deep wine coloured plastic urn, not unlike a candy jar. Hmmmmm. I signed forms and gave phone numbers and said what relation I was to the deceased and I left. Only after dad had been put into a very grand gift bag. Dark green and uncannily like something you would be given if you had bought a hideously expensive bottle of wine from Harrod's .
I walked home with tears and quivering arms, swinging dad in his Harrods gift bag, not entirely sure if I should laugh or cry. He was heavier than I imagined he would be ( though nowhere near as heavy as he was) and it just seemed so ridiculous that this was all that was left of him. So ridiculous that actually, I think I don't believe it, and that makes it all not at all sad. I can see now ( though absolutely couldn't understand it a bit before) why people find themselves with their dearly departed sitting on their mantlepiece forever. It's strangley comforting and not a bit morbid. Dad is in his gift bag on top of my TV cupboard, out of reach of little boys hands ( can you imagine if they got to him?? How awful if we had to test the sucking power of the Kirby vacuum on that one!!) I am almost tempted to take him out of the gift bag and have him sit on display, in his fancy shaped jar because darn it, if it isn't exactly the same colour as my sofas.
He doesn't belong to me though and I'm sure his jar will blend beautifully in his own front room with it's peach colours. He will be going home in the morning when I take the boys to school. Seeing his remains has comforted me in a way I wouldn't have believed and I hope it does the same for mum. It just puts it all into place and helps me see, and believe, that his body is gone. His spirit will always be near and will be watching out for us, his body is for now, as they say in the scriptures, returned to the dust from whence it came. Things are as they should be in this great plan we all live.
I am so aware of how small we are, but how great we can be. I think my dad is at his greatest right now and while we stay here, finishing the plan that was set for us, he will be looking out for us and yelling for us to get it right, work hard, be good, do what is right and be happy. Pretty much what he and mum have taught us all our lives. Keep yelling dad and watch over mum in that old jallopy. We'll watch for her too, she's doing alright and she's as amazing as ever.
Have you been telling her off for working on that garden all hours and only eating toast? I suspect she has heard you and blown a few raspberries.....she knows when she has had enough, just have a word with the man upstairs and make sure those bloody flowers bloom like never before for her will you?
Oh and some whistling good news for me is HERE...whoopppdedoo for me!!