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heading home
Sep. 20th, 2022 11:58 pmI bought a beater suitcase at the thrift store for $5 to bring home all the junk that I wanted to keep after we cleaned out my moms room at the assisted living. Cheapest and easiest way to ship things: check a bag. Even with fees for checking, it's a pretty good deal, and you get it same day. (Usually.)
Yesterday we dealt with the funeral thing – we are not having a funeral now, but we're going to have a memorial service, probably next month on her birthday, and she's going to be cremated, and we will scatter her ashes somewhere illegal (I'm going to put the majority in the ocean, and just a couple of teaspoons in the actually illegal place). (Although, it turns out that even the beach is illegal – you're supposed to go 500 feet out, and you're supposed to use a boat. I'm pretty sure we'll get away with the beach part.)
They asked if we wanted any particular items to be cremated along with her, and the only thing that I thought of was the shirt that she escaped the Paradise fire in. (There's a little something funny about being cremated after you escaped a terrifying fire. But that's what she had wanted earlier, so that's what we're doing. It's also the simplest option.) Anyway, the shirt was completely falling apart because she would not part with it; it was the only thing she had from before the fire. (I suppose she was wearing pants too but the shirt was important.) So I felt a little weird handing the funeral director this very ratty sweatshirt, but I think it was the right thing.
These last two nights in the hotel I have watched Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune (despite Pat Sajak apparently being an asshole) because those were her favorite shows.
Yesterday we dealt with the funeral thing – we are not having a funeral now, but we're going to have a memorial service, probably next month on her birthday, and she's going to be cremated, and we will scatter her ashes somewhere illegal (I'm going to put the majority in the ocean, and just a couple of teaspoons in the actually illegal place). (Although, it turns out that even the beach is illegal – you're supposed to go 500 feet out, and you're supposed to use a boat. I'm pretty sure we'll get away with the beach part.)
They asked if we wanted any particular items to be cremated along with her, and the only thing that I thought of was the shirt that she escaped the Paradise fire in. (There's a little something funny about being cremated after you escaped a terrifying fire. But that's what she had wanted earlier, so that's what we're doing. It's also the simplest option.) Anyway, the shirt was completely falling apart because she would not part with it; it was the only thing she had from before the fire. (I suppose she was wearing pants too but the shirt was important.) So I felt a little weird handing the funeral director this very ratty sweatshirt, but I think it was the right thing.
These last two nights in the hotel I have watched Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune (despite Pat Sajak apparently being an asshole) because those were her favorite shows.
