Funeral Home

When Asher passed away a family friend took care of the funeral home details. They owned a funeral home in California and they took it upon themselves to contact one in Georgia and made the arrangements and even paid for the cremation. I think my dad was the one that picked up Ashers remains, I don't have the clearest memories around that time. Somehow I know they ended up at mom and dads house and we didn't feel ready to get them for quite awhile. At that time I was very thankful for the love people showed with amazing gestures like this one. In the last few months I have come to realize how far short those feelings fell.
A couple of days ago I went to the funeral home and got Paxton's remains. I had been putting it off for weeks. I knew that I did not want to bring Avery and North. I also knew that I did not want to go alone. It worked out that I had a car appointment for a recalled air bag so I had to be in town alone. Heather could not come with Indy because we did not know how long we would be waiting and that just is not a good idea with heart monitors and feeding and everything. So I went alone. I felt sick for days leading up to it. I went and got a haircut before I went to the funeral home. I needed a haircut, but it also felt like I needed to stall, to push the inevitable back as much as possible. When I called to ask if I could come by they asked how soon and said five minutes would be fine. They showed me into the waiting room and I waited, for about fifteen minutes. After that the very gracious gentleman that I had been dealing with from the beginning came in looking stressed. He told me the plaque was not ready yet. I told him we had not ordered anything extra for Paxton. He then realized he had me confused with another family who had also lost a twin, I guess they came in a day after us. A few moments later I was standing outside with a tiny white box, plastic with a label, Paxton Bridge Lilley. What do you do? Standing there in downtown Redlands, 100 degree weather, the impossibly small box in your hands, and a car appointment to make in ten minutes. I made it to the car with just tears on my cheeks. Once inside the car I was sobbing uncontrollably. I have never personally seen anyone driving around weeping, but I know it happens, at least it did happen.

I spent the rest of the day with a thousand yard stare on my face.

When I got home I put the tiny box in my pocket and brought it inside to put in a safe place. I did not want the kids to see it and ask more questions. I already had that conversation with them when they asked me, "what will they do with Paxton?". How do you explain cremation to an 8 and 10 year old? I stalled on that discussion too. I called my dad to see what he thought I should say, like he always does he had good words.

That's about all I can say about that day.