photo credit: Aaron Springston
The steps of grief are slippery, are they not? Today I got Kevin's ashes back from the crematorium. The emotions I felt were surprising. When the delivery man came to the door, I had a very possessive reaction, grabbing the box and holding it close; almost saying "get your hands off of him". After sitting quietly with these feelings for a bit, I started to wonder how I could be sure it was him. Heck, this could be a cow's bones for all I know! After thinking weird things like this for a while, I settled back into my sensibilities, reminding myself it doesn't really make any difference if it's actually his remains or someone else's. There is nothing there but some inert matter, and where he lives is in Love, which is evidenced everywhere I look. While it's tempting to keep the things he loved, I have given away his telescope to dear friends who will look at the night sky as gleefully as he did. Just as Kevin enjoyed Ken Starbird's tools which Sandy gave him, someone will think of him when they use his weed eater or look at the moon through his favorite lens. He's smiling with me at that thought...
"Thou gentle beam of living Love,
And deathless Life!
Truth infinite -- so far above
All mortal strife..."
from the poem Christmas Morn by Mary Baker Eddy
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