Picking up your ashes...

Babe-

Yesterday, I went with a friend to pick you up from the funeral home.  I didn't know how I was going to react, so I figured I should bring reinforcement.  As we drove to the funeral home, we also passed the hospital you died in and every time I drive pass that hospital on the freeway, I look at it with a kind of pain and sadness that no words can described. It's a constant reminder of the worst day of my life - one that completely altered my entire existence.  An existence that I can barely fathom or accept.  I will never look at the hospital the same way again.  

As we are driving, I tell our friend that I know I have a great support network and I'm lucky to have such amazing family and friends who are here for me during this tragic event, but I also realize that nobody knows what i'm going through.  Nobody knows what to say or do, or how to handle me.  I mean, I barely know how to handle myself or what support I need - how can I expect anyone else to understand if I can barely understand myself and it's my life; my story.  And, who do I know that has lost their spouse, let alone a perfectly healthy spouse at the age of 39.  I tell him that although I have an amazing support system, I also know that this is my journey and it's something that I have to do on my own and in my own time, as my voice cracks and i'm fighting back the tears that want to roll down my face.  
​
As we are driving to the funeral home, we also pass by your favorite ice cream shop, the store where I always purchase my yarn from, and restaurants we like to patronize, and I say, "I'll never look at this street the same way again."  I never knew that at the end of this street where we go to and hang out all the time was a funeral home.  When we arrived at the funeral home, I tell the receptionist, "I'm here to pick-up my husband!"  Like I was picking you up from school or something.  When they took me to the room where you were waiting for me - I saw your box in the niche and I just started to cry.  I could barely get through signing the paperwork to pick you up.  I cried as I looked at you on the table and as I picked you up and walked out with you in my arms and I turned to our friend and say, "This is all he is now, a pile of ashes in a box.  This is how we will all end up."  I put you on my lap as we drove home while tears continue to roll down by face.  I put you in the craft room temporarily (until the construction is done and you’ll go in your favorite spot in the living room), and I have to lay down for an afternoon nap since I was emotionally drained, but all I could do was fall in and out of sleep while doing deep meditative breaths to soothe me and try to relax as tears continue to roll down my face - yes not a lot of sleeping done.  Overall, I thought it went pretty well, I mean it could have gone a lot worse in my mind.  (And yes, everybody said you would prefer to me in your man cave and not my craft room, so I eventually moved you to the man cave - just in time for the Super Bowl on Sunday.)