her ashes are ready

The funeral home called yesterday to say my mother's "cremains" (a bizarre phrase which is probably proprietary and patented or something) had returned from the crematory and are ready for interment. The only thing was to decide when to do the interment. (Mom wanted her ashes interred on her mother's grave.) Well, coordinating that with four siblings, one who lives out of state, is a challenge. But it looks like it will be Saturday.

People keep calling me and checking on me and I'm getting the feeling that people expect me to be more of a mess than I am. I am a mess, but not much more than I was before, and I haven't even been crying that much. Of course, at the wake, it took my sister-in-law's Xanax to even get me down the hall towards the main memorial room, let alone to the casket. I don't think I have ever cried like that in my life. It was weird crying. It was silent. I felt like I was choking. Every once in a while I would take these huge ragged gasps of air and I just felt so stupid.

But now that I've been living with it for a week and a half, I don't know, maybe I'm just numb, or still in shock, or something. I do know that my mom used to go camping with my stepdad a lot before they both got cancer, and she would often take a day trip or a day and night trip up to Madison (Wisc.) to visit my sister. So part of me is still listening for the garage door to go up, creaking and rattling, and for her keys to jingle outside the back door. But the rational parts of my mind know that will never happen again. But then I don't think my brain is particularly rational these days.
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