She exists in a container now. Although she sort of doesn’t. That’s what makes it all so interesting to navigate.
There are many feelings. You’re left wondering which one to choose.
There’s sentimentality, the most presumed. Take a little part of it with you everywhere you go.
There’s the reality slam. Holding it and thinking about what it means. You knew it would come to this, but it would have been impossible to truly imagine.
Plus there’s all the stuff in between, that got us here. Those which have been shut out purposely, in hopes not to lose sanity. It’s not erasable and it’s taken a lot to steer our brains away. Just try.
There’s wondering how to treat it. Is it sacred or is it nothing? Is it both or neither? Do I touch it with my fingers, do I scoop it with a plastic spoon? Should I pray in some way, at least to her?
Then deciding what to do with it. All boiled down to one big question…..
Can I keep you?
Though I already know that I can’t. Then again, what do I know?
I can hear her voice saying that I can. I see her boisterous nod. I know she wouldn’t mind any of this. “I’ll walk with you.” she’d say. Or, “Just toss me in the garden. Put me in a coffee mug.”
God it’s hard to let you go. You deserve to be free. You deserve to be flung joyfully.
Still, I know that you don’t mind if I hold on, for now.
There’s humour and there’s lightheartedness, mixed with ache and gratitude. Desire to keep you alive the way that’s left for me.
Here we sit, with ashes.