I purposely didn't call my son when dad died, because I knew he had worked all night and would be sleeping. There was nothing that could be done for daddy, so I waited until I knew he would be up. It was one of the hardest calls I've ever had to make.
As soon as he heard the news he began preparing to come home. He was packed and ready when he went into work to tell his boss, and left from there. He got to Absarokee at around 11:00PM. As my brother said, things seemed better after he arrived.
Wolf helped make the arrangements and did whatever needed to be done. Mostly we all hung out together, told dad stories and hugged a lot. Thursday Wolf and I went to Billings to spend some time with the kidcousins and pick up things that we needed for the service and reception.
One of the things that we needed to do was pick up dad's ashes from the funeral home, which we did on Friday.
We made the pick-up and as we were walking out to the car, I started talking about where to put the beautiful wooden urn that my brother had picked out. I said, "I don't know where to put daddy", and started to cry. My son put the urn in the front seat and came around to my side of the car and hugged me. We stood there for a long time, while I cried and cried.
There was a brief silence and as I was about to begin crying again my son said "you smell like cat food, but nice". I went from hysterical crying to hysterical laughter in the blink of an eye. I had been keeping my cat's food and water in my clothes closet and apparently the odor had been absorbed into my clothing.
I learned two things that day:
- I have a son who can make me laugh on one of the saddest days of my life and
- I needed to find a new place to feed my cat.
He later told me that he just didn't know what to say.
I'd say he did.
Now if he'd just quit calling me Friskies...