This is going to be a brutal post so family members be warned. You might want to come back tomorrow when I talk about soap.
This has been a rough 48 hours. The Mister and I had just gotten down to serious tiling when the phone rang. It was the call I had been dreading for two weeks. Daddio's cremated remains were ready to be picked up.
It was Thursday morning and I was already in the midst of a total cry fest. I always went to see Daddio on Thursdays. I told the funeral home I would come get him on Friday morning since I was in no shape to make the trip on a Thursday. The Mister and I carried on with the tile and got a grand total of two tiles cut. Not much to show for an entire day but they were two hard cuts and I was pretty much useless as an assitant.
That night I had to rearrange my stash closet because that's where Mom has been waiting patiently for Dad to join her.
Since I sold Daddio's house I had to bring her here. She is tucked away out of sight behind some lovely wool. Now Daddio is with her on the top shelf.
Carrying your loved one's ashes across a parking lot is a surreal experience. I remember how strange it was to go gather up Mom. But as hard as yesterday was, Daddio made it harder. Back at home when I was situating them together I happened to move Mom's bible that I had tucked into the pretty gift bag that held her ashes and her favorite fishing hat. A note fell out. I had never seen it before. It was from....Daddio. He had written to Mom on a piece of hospital stationary " when I get where you are, please don't run, walk slowly so I can catch up with you."
I pretty much went to pieces when I realized what I had just read. The Mister scooped me up and took me down to the bay with a pack of Kleenex so I could work it out in the place Mom and Dad loved the most. In the spring, The Mister will sail their ashes out and disperse them into the water which was what they both wanted.
I should also add that while going through Daddio's personal papers last week I had found a note written to us days after Mom's death where he talked about his desire to join her. Referencing his own death he ended with...." shed not a tear but rejoice and look upon the stars and we will be smiling down upon you. Mom and I forever." You know I'll never look at stars the same way again.
My old man, who was one of seven boys fostered out to work camps during the great depression and who never went to school, sure had a way with words.
When I got home from my cry fest by the bay, there was a big package on the porch. It was the materials I needed to sandwich Daddio's last quilt.
For those of you who don't know, Daddio got into quilting after Mom died. He found her sewing box and began to paper piece the scraps of material into a quilt which sparked his passion. That's the leftovers of my first wedding dress-the red gingham (!) and the maternity tops Mom made for me in that quilt. He gifted it to his first great granddaughter.
I know it's silly but that box of quilting supplies on my porch was like Dad's final message to me. Get on with it girl, you've got a quilt to finish. Stop your bawling and get to work. Maybe not today Dad, I still have some tears to shed-but tomorrow for sure.