Home At Last

Oliver's urn arrived yesterday. I have been anxiously awaiting its arrival. It many ways it felt like the final act of parenting Oliver. From beginning to end. From womb to urn. It matches Waverly's, but is unique like any piece of pottery. It is a bit larger and the definition of the pattern is more subtle.

We had to do a little swapping of spaces, so I took the ashes of both children and both urns to our funeral director. She moved things around and within a few minutes everyone was back where they  belonged.

It was surreal being back in that space. I waited in the same room Matt and I had sat in while making arrangements for Oliver's funeral. That day Oliver was gone mere hours. The wind was knocked out of me and I sat in shock unable to comprehend that he was dead. I remember the tears falling onto the glass table as I stared at my shoes on their black floral carpet.

I am still in shock, but reality is beginning to set in. I still think about the what ifs and if only I hads. The terror of feeling like I could go back and change the course of events has subsided. I still cannot dwell in the memories of Oliver's final days or I fall to pieces. When they come into my mind I have to will them away and use all of my energy to focus on the good moments.

It brings me some peace in knowing their ashes are contained in these lovely works of art. They are home surrounded by warm glowing lights and so much love.