Outside of the Box

So, my mother was cremated after she passed away when I was 15. The night she died that's instantly what happened. The last time my brother and I saw her was the night before she died when she was barely breathing, and we knew it was the end. We never got to see her finally at peace.

I have been hurting since the night she died. I have been yearning to see my mother and be comforted by her, but she is not here. We do not have a grave to visit, or any kind of memorial. For the past few weeks I have been having dreams about my mother. The night she died, her coming and visiting me, and just her in general. I wake up crying because she isn't here. We didn't have the best relationship, but we never had the chance to develop one...so I feel cheated.

I've had a fear of actually viewing my mothers ashes since the day my dad brought her home...I wouldn't even step foot in the same room in which she was located. So, today I put my fears aside and took a look at the box. I knew she was in there, and as I shook, became clammy, and tears came to my eyes I took the box from the shelf. I took the box to my fathers side table and sat on the bed. I just sat there and read through the cremation documents, putting off what I knew I needed to do. So, I opened the lid, and instantly began sobbing. There she was, in a box in my fathers room, finally in view and there to talk to. These feelings haven't been present since her funeral, or maybe they have and I just deny they are there.

It is easier to pretend you aren't hurt and it doesn't impact you as much as it does. Yet, when it comes time to deal with situations that I need her in and she isn't there, the fact I haven't dealt with this pain makes the pain even worse.

So, I sobbed, and sobbed, and sobbed some more. Holding the box in my arms and just clenching to what I had left of my mother to remember. She is finally at peace and now maybe I can be too.