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it is over

FSVO over.

The package arrived today with my grandparents' intermingled ashes.  This was a plastic bag, unlike Granma's urn, so it was....more immediate, I guess?  I'd never actually seen her ashes; this was RIGHT THERE, in my hand, granma and grandpa.  Nowhere to hide, no pretty gilt and black enamel urn.  Just them.  G wrote "Richard" and "Frances" with the old school heart with an arrow through it on the package, which was perfect.  That's the sort of thing Grandpa would have doodled, because he was always a big ol' dork where Granma was concerned.

It was beautiful and powerful and painful.  And peaceful.

She also sent me Granma's rosewood rosary from Medjugorje.  She always carried it in her purse, and Grandpa slept with it after she died.  That was one of the few things I was really torn up about not being able to find.  I love it as a little girl.  I thought it was the most magical thing ever.  It still smells like roses.

I have Grandpa's cross with a lock of her hair and a split ring with one of her rings.  The leather thong smells like soap and aftershave and him.  Every time I turn my head, I expect to see him over my shoulder.

So this is what closure feels like, I guess.


Mar. 6th, 2016 08:04 pm (UTC)
over is over
Closure! Folks in my family are still having the conversations about coming to terms with their childhoods and why things were as they were.

I just picked the things of my g'ma that I would like to have. (A portrait my mother painted of her and my g'pa, a framed needlepoint celebrating her 50 years of marriage.) I am not sure someone with a better claim won't get them from me, but at least I know they will be wanted and not lost in the chaos!


The fucking YARN FAIRY!

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