Pray To Not Fall Prey: Forever in my Heart

My mom’s ashes are hidden inside a small, slate blue vessel in the shape of a heart with two silver colored butterflies etched into the surface of the metal. Though it fits in the palm of my hand, its industrial feel robs the piece of the warmth it should bring given its sentimental contents.

Wanting a different fate for Aaron’s ashes, I decided on blown glass artwork by Artful Ashes. Per their instructions, I submitted a request form to receive a “ash collections kit” which arrived within three days in a large heavy duty plastic envelope. A few days later, I took this package with me to the cabin and placed it on the kitchen counter where it remained unopened. It might as well have been a pile of anthrax the way I avoided it. But it refused to be ignored. It gnawed at me like a monkey on my back and after I had enough of its claws pressing into my skin and drawing blood as it tore my flesh, I finally ripped open the package.

I retrieved the tiny plastic scooper from the collection kit and used it to dig into Aaron’s ashes in order to extract a level scoop - the amount required to make the memorial. As I lowered the scoop into the plastic baggie, my olive skin turned to grey as my hand became blanketed in fine layer of ash. The plastic scooper against the gritty contents in the bag made an unexpected loud noise as if the scooper was masticating his ashes. By the time I was done collecting the sample, my right hand was covered in grey dust.

Instead of being able to hold his hand, I was wearing him....on my hand.

I felt numb as I rinsed the grey dust away with warm water revealing my normal olive skin tone. I paused to stare out the kitchen window finding solace in the tall pine trees which stood stoically against the clear blue sky. Aaron loved it here, I thought to myself as I shook the water from my hands and grabbed a nearby hand towel.

Once back in Phoenix, I returned the package to the company and a few days later I received a voice mail: “Hi, this is Ashley from Artful Ashes. We just want you to know we’ve received Aaron and he’s in good hands...” They estimated my memorial arriving by August 23rd which it did; exactly two months from the day Aaron passed.

I opened the package in the kitchen of my Phoenix home, looked out the window and stared briefly at the Mesquite tree along the east block wall of the back yard. My lip curled upward in a slight smirk at the Mesquite's awkwardness. While beautiful in its own way, it was just so different, almost comically so, from the pine trees that comforted me the day I acquired Aaron’s ashes at my cabin.

After removing the bubble wrap, I carefully unravelled the packing paper from the memorial until finally the splendid heart shaped piece of glass landed gently in the palm of my hand; the colors - a brilliant blue, vibrant purple and an emerald green so vivid as if they were plugged into a outlet. And, like grains of sand, Aaron’s ashes were beautifully swirled into the piece; bright and shimmery under the surface of the glass as opposed to the dull grey color of the ash that I recall.

How surreal it is to have such vivid memories of what it was like to be with Aaron - to see him, touch him, hold him, kiss him; to be able to hear his voice whenever I wanted, to see his chest rise and fall as slept...to then stand in my kitchen holding a glass heart containing his ashes.

I used to hold his hand...and there I was holding him in my hand.

...and forever in my heart.