It’s going to be a long two weeks

Downstairs, there is a small box sitting on the bureau in the entry hall. It is about the size of box of kleenex.  It is very heavy for its size.

The weight of that box is pressing down on me although I am in an upstairs office.

It contains my sister’s ashes.

Ever since this box was delivered by the post office yesterday, I have felt as though it is difficult to breathe. I am having a hard time doing much of anything. I took a nap. That is very rare for me. It is as though I needed to shut out everything around me.

My son and daughter-in-law were here yesterday and they stayed overnight with the grandchildren. It was good to have a distraction. But there was a little part of me sitting in front of that bureau, just looking at the box. After all of them left today, the full weight of it hit me head on.

It is difficult for me to figure out why this is so hard for me. She died nearly two years ago. I have been doing pretty well lately. I have wanted to have her ashes buried, or at least dealt with in some way. Logically, this would be a good step toward resolving that. My father’s ashes were at our home for several weeks awaiting the internment. That did not affect me like this. It will be two weeks until my sister’s ashes are interred.

I have run through all of the memories and tears over the past two years. There don’t seem to be any left.  I am not interested in going through them again. In fact, I do not feel like crying. Actually, I don’t feel much of any emotion.  It is just a heavy, dull, weight. It feels difficult to move, to breathe, to feel anything.

I know what the saying “a heavy heart” means now.

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