On Friday, the vet called.
“We’re calling to say Amelia’s ashes are in,” the woman on the phone nearly whispered. “You can pick them up at any time.”
Like it’s something I pre-ordered at a fancy boutique in Soho. You can pick your Badgley Mischka at any time.
“Again, we’re very sorry. Amelia will be missed.”
That was a nice touch.
~ * ~
I have never seen cremation ashes before.
I was expecting them to be dark, powdery, like charcoal dust but lighter. That is what I think of when I think “ashes,” whether of a living being or otherwise.
Instead, I have a heavy bag of pale chalk-like flakes interspersed with other colored objects like grain husks. All the pieces are substantial; not powdery at all. Large in comparison to my imagination. Chunky.
It kind of changes what we want to do with them, and how we want to scatter the small handful we’re going to scatter.
There is something oddly comforting about the fact that they have a weight to them. I thought the weight of the bag they gave me was due to it being in an urn of some kind, but no. It’s the weight of the “ashes” themselves.
I like that my sweet girl is substantive, even in death.