Picked an URN. Went to Dr. Longfinger about my prostate. And kept working on mail/administrative stuff.
|She was often horrified by the way I screwed up lyrics and the way I sometimes saw the world... like when I repeated the line that kissing someone is just pressing your lips against the sweet end of 26 feet of digestive tract, or that giving her flowers was my way of emasculating plants in effigy.
- URN I got Melissa's Urn delivered. It was more than she would have wanted to spend, but less than the ones you get from many funeral homes. But it's just a temporary container, for her remains, as we're going to let her remains touch many people.
- I don't think people really understand how creamation works. When burned about 97% of your body is either combined with oxygen and/or evaporated by converting liquid into gas, and it goes into the atmosphere... the 3 lbs. (or ≈3%) of ashes left are just whatever impure chunks didn't boil off and go up the chimney. Once Melissa is cremated, she'll disipate and be everywhere in the air I breathe, or eventually the soil and water (in very minute amounts). With perfect distribution and time, I don't need to go somewhere to remember her or talk to her, because to quote The Police, she is litereally in, "every breath I take, all the food I make, she'll be watching me". Her charred remains are just her left over impurities.
- There was a very zen (minimalist) wood and leather minimalist cube that I liked; it screamed Dave. But I wanted to find an Urn that was "her" -- and she loved the beach/water, and bling. So I found one with a beach scene, with a heart in the sand. (She liked hearts). It would have been better without as much faux gold, more pink and crystals, and a smiley face in the sand -- but it was something she'd probably like. And it's more about her than me. I liked it, her Mom liked it, a longtime friend of hers liked it. Another new grief friend/coworker of mine thought it was "terrible" (in humor), with a little Persian flair (which works in our house). I laughed and explained, "there’s no such thing as a good urn"... and he really liked that line. The day before, he had just paddled out to one of his wife and his last favorite spots, broke her porceline urn, and let her ashes go into the ocean (after almost 2 years).
So I still have this "Chip Clip" on my nutsack. Not literally (a kink I'm not into). I just got this new malady in Jan, that was called Prostatitis, and it feels like that. In my case, it's a little calcification in my prostate that irritates it. Doctor Longfinger violated me and my PSA was used to validate that it wasn't anything more serious. While Melissa was in the hospital, we joked about it. I said, "My chip clip isn't being helped by all the commuting", and while she was laying in bed, recovering from a heart attack and stroke, she said, "Oh poor baby, all that pain must be hard for you". I detected a wiff of sarcasm. But it, and Melissa's passing, reminds me that it sucks getting old... but it is better than the alternative.
|It reminds me of the joke:
I went to the doctor and said, “my bottom hurts”…
- Insurances: 5 different properties, 2 cars, umbrealla, flood, 2 agents, and it being renewal time, I was able to get with one of our insurance agents and get about 2/3rds of them closed and paid (most of the rest should have been already). Reconciling them into Melissa's filing system? That's gonna put the F-U in Fun.
- Funderal Home called, needed to get them a picture of Melissa -- they like to double-check photo with body before they Flambé. Needed to run by, and drop off the Urns.
- Went to the Bank, I love our bank and folks that work there. They helped me get accounts more understood, shared in grief (everyone loved Melissa).
- I sent off some gifts and cards that Melissa had already had ready for other people -- they'll be getting parting gifts from the other side, because that's how considerate she is.