The Box

Oh.
Boy.
I took a little drive yesterday. I had a bit of a mission that I wasn't so sure about. I made very sure, oh so sure, I was driving at below the speed limit to extend mission arrival. I needed to be in charge, in control and I knew it. To bolster myself I very, very, yes, very purposefully took note of things along the way. Some of those things bring me peace always... but some of the things I noticed on purpose so I wouldn't have to think about my mission.

Quite fortunately, my mission destination was in Morro Bay and so being a lovely SLO afternoon the highway was full of just plain stunning views. Interestingly, I saw no herds of animals or other living, grazing creatures - that was, well, strange. Even the birds didn't seem to be out and about though it seemed that the air currents above would have been perfect for soaring. So I looked at the rocks, trees, hills, and meadows and when my brain started to spin itself the nasty way it seems to lately; (poor me) I looked at the cars I was passing and the people in them. And again, interestingly, they all looked deep in thought and frankly, not very happy thought. Hmmmm.

Quite suddenly the sun was gone and the fog dropped down around my car and I thought, "Oh, fog. That is about right." I glanced to my left and saw the mission's destination. The building seemed to jump out at me from across the highway where it sits on the frontage road. Oh, already here. Hmmm, again.

I take the exit, then the roundabout, and come to a full stop, not a California stop and look both ways. Slowly and very carefully. Pleasantly, I wave someone through the intersection. I am on the frontage road.

I have had this feeling before. I do not like it. I do not like it. I do not like it. I slow down and take a deep breath. And say to myself, "Just keep driving and look for the entrance, go in and park and oh, I know, use the restroom first... - Should I also comb my hair, put on a bit of gloss?"

I pull in. Park in a disappointingly familiar spot. Take a deep breath, lean back on the head rest, close my eyes and open the car door. Stepping out I am struck by... nothing. I cannot think of another thing to do, not one, except,..... go in the door. So I do.

I follow my plan, smile, and pleasantly ask for the restroom. She smiles, sort of, "Here for a pick-up?" I nod..... she directs me to the restroom. It smells faintly like cigarette smoke but is clean. Taking my time... ha. I wash my hands and wrinkle my nose.... I hate soap that smells like food... passion fruit... ick, more like wet fruit loops. Yes, that is what I thought at that moment, anything, think of anything except.

Exiting I walk to the office but from behind me I hear, "I'm over here." Right by the door, the exit. OK, this will be quick. I sign where indicated and she gestures to the Box on the mantel. "There 'he' is"., she says.... creepy.

Yes, it is my dad's ashes. I smile, sort of, and comment foolishly, - "Oh the Box is bigger than I thought." "Yes, she says avoiding my eyes, we usually use a MUCH smaller box but there was no way for him." I chuckle, sort of, "Yes he was a big guy."

I pick up the Box and
go. to. my. car.
I am walking in a daze. surreal.

I open the passenger door and set the Box down, now I am in a hurry, I want to leave fast. I jump into the seat, turn the key and begin to back up. And stop. All of the sudden I am overwhelmed with a strange feeling. I look to my left and see a woman, I look straight ahead and stare at the building. Then - I look to my right and look at the Box and say, right out loud....
"OK, so here WE are." I sigh, "I feel like I am supposed to DO something, but I don't know what it is! - any ideas?" (silence) I back the car out and drive away, Box there, and think...

Get a grip, think about what you know. And thankfully I can do that.

This is what I know and so this is what I think to myself.

He's not here, he is there and it is ok, (smiling) and wiping my (MY) tears away I go on because as I remind myself; when I woke up this morning I was filled with a deep sense of knowing that I had moved, beyond coping to Living again.

Living here, where I am and that is a good thing.

The Box? Yes I have it, sitting there on the shelf for another day. A day or a weekend, when we will gather and remember and scatter and cherish our memories and each other. And that will be fine, just fine.