That is my mom in the big silver urn, my sister in the blue swirly bottle and my father in the gold and blue box. Let me correct myself, it's their ashes.
Every time I go into my tiny backyard I see them. I kinda wave to them. Or nod. I am glad they are there. My mom was 94 when she died and she was ready. We got to say goodbye and share our love over and over. My father was 84 and his heart gave out taking a crap in the bathroom. My sister had metastasized breast cancer. At the time of her death she had 16 tumors in her brain.
I have other beloved people who died. My friend Shauna was murdered by a convicted rapist who had just been released from prison after 20 years. Carol died in a car accident. Robert was only 26 years old when he died of cancer. Elizabeth was 49 when she died of pancreatic cancer. Jules was 89. My aunts and uncles died of age related illnesses.
I carry them with me as you carry yours. They are our soldiers. They went first into the arms of death or the battle with death. They are leading the way for me with light. I am grateful and indebted.
As I am grateful to Ursula Le Guin for this quote, "The only thing that makes life possible is permanent, intolerable uncertainty: not knowing what comes next."