Tuesday, February 15, 2022

Remains

 

My realtor told me that I shouldn’t have any personal belongings visible while showing the house. She said it was too personal and that it didn’t reflect well with buyers who needed, to envision themselves here. I hesitated when packing my personal belongings up.  In particular were the ashes of my son, Quentin, “Q” which were sitting in a coffin like box on my teal credenza in my living room. There was an American flag beside him which was offered to me during his military ceremony.

I didn’t intend to place my son’s remains there on this teal credenza in a shrine-like manner (I told myself it was not healthy to build a shrine to my fallen son). Conflicted, I wrapped his ashes in a soft blanket, gently placing them in a box, clean and not closed in the back of my closet. I knew that I would never forget they were there.  

Admittedly, it seemed banal on some level, as if I were somehow disrespecting my son and my memories of him.  Every night I would remove them. The next day I would gently touch this box where his physical body lay in state. I touched this box once in the morning when I arose and once in the evening before I slept. I touched this box, gently. I touched the box in a tentative manner, willing my son to know how much he is missed; how much he is loved. I do not know how my son would feel about this.  He was practical, pragmatic as am I.

My son has not been buried yet as I have not taken the trip to the Lexington Cemetery in Iowa to do so.  There is some solace and comfort in having him with me in the physical sense. It frightens me to think that he (or his remains) may not be near me when they are buried. How will I be able to touch this box with my son tucked inside if I cannot do so every morning and every night?