THE STORY:
During one of many phone conversations with my sister Amy, we got on the subject of our mother’s ashes. We had not spoken much about our mother’s funeral, or what had been done with her remains. I assumed that she had been buried, but I learned that Amy was the guardian her ashes.
By the end of that conversation, she had made me a very interesting offer. It was not the type that you get at a mall, or from a car dealership. This offer was more melancholy, and by no means financially advantageous.
Her proposal was quite simple. She wanted me to have half of our mother’s ashes. She felt that it was “only fair.” I reacted with a sheepish chuckle because the offer was so unexpected. How could I turn her down, though? Well, I couldn’t, and so I happily accepted.
THE EMOTIONS:
Not that it needs to be written, but I’ve never been a big fan of death. I have always found the associated pain, regret, helplessness, and depression to be uncomfortable topics. I’ve been to my share of funerals for both the too young and the not quite old enough, and they never get easier to stomach.
Even though I wasn’t able to meet my biological mother, I was given the opportunity to have a part of her physical self. However “morbid” (her word, not mine) the offer may seem, it was necessary and appreciated. How could it not have been? She was offering me the cremated remains of our murdered mother! As unexpected as her offer had been, it was the most considerate thing she could have done. I felt like I deserved to have part of our mother’s remains, and it was obvious that Amy felt the same.
However depressing it was to consider my mother’s murder, I felt that there was at least one positive aspect; I had found my biological family before too many other members had succumbed to death. I can only imagine how much more painful it would have been had I wasted anymore time.
Our conversation did force me to question my own mortality, once again. I don’t really know whether I’d prefer to be buried, or cremated. Cremation is the economical option, but burial is so much more traditional. Plus, there’s the issue of determining where to be buried. My connection to the Midwest is very strong, but I’ve never lived so far away from this area that I ever yearned to come back. I’ve never truly missed this place. So, I don’t feel obligated to rest here.
THE ADVICE:
Dealing with a parental death is a big deal. Especially if you were adopted, and you never had the opportunity to meet said parent. I have complete empathy. If you find yourself in a position similar to mine then my best advice is this; find satisfaction in the family that is still living. Those are the people who can help you feel closer to the departed.
I could whine about my biological mother’s death, but what could I possibly expect to accomplish? Sure, it’s somewhat of a crappy deal, but her murder shouldn’t negate all of the positives to come from my search. Even with the death of my mother, I still have tons of family, and I’m quite satisfied with that. They have managed to provide me with details of my mother’s character and personality. So, now I know her better than ever.
If you’re offered the chance to visit your deceased parent’s grave or receive their remains, then you ought to accept. I have no idea what I will do with my biological mother’s ashes, but at least I’ll have them. At least I’ll be able to have her closer to my life no matter how morbid that might seem.
- Andrew
