Special Delivery

"to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness"

There I stood in line at the post-office, with my upright professional stance, waiting for my turn. I had received a little green post-card in the mail the day before. I knew it was coming I had been waiting an unusually long time to receive it. After several hand twisting, gut churning days and numerous phone calls asking where it was, it had finally arrived, I could now breathe a sigh of relief, but instead of a package it was a note simply telling me I must go to the post office in order to receive it. I am well aware of the normal procedure for receiving certified mail, so of course I was expecting to just sign the card and receive the package, but not this time… this was quite different. “Very well”, I said “I shall go and pick it up.” My husband in his infinite wisdom knew better and offered to go and take care of this for me. “Nonsense” I proclaimed. I knew I had to go into town anyway so naturally I would just stop and pick it up after I took care of the errands for the day. By nature I am a bold, confident, take charge person, life had a way of demanding this from me. As I stepped up to the counter I handed my postcard to the postmaster who was an older lady. “Oh honey” she said in her thick southern accent “You wer'nt supposed to sign this yet until you actually received the package.” She paused, then just stood there looking at me, for what seemed like an eternity before she hobbled over to a small locked vault. Slowly she started turning a wheel and unlocking the combination upon the door. Feeling a little weird-ed out by the silence in the room, I started commenting on how it took so long to get here, and how I just didn’t understand given the distance from whence it came why it would take so long. She opened the door, reached inside and carefully pulled out a small brown box. As she started walking back, the closer she came to me I could see some unusual red markings stamped all over the box. Human remains…Suddenly I became sick and very weak. My upright stance turned into trembling legs that could hardly stand. I became frozen, as I felt the piercing eyes of every soul there resting upon me. She gently sat it on the counter and kindly began to explain how a package like this required special care. Everyone, no matter who they were, be it a mail carrier, clerk or driver, they all had to fill out a form and sign that they handled the package. “Such a procedure does make it take much longer to reach its destination”, she said. I just stood there paralyzed with grief, not really knowing what to do. “Even though you’ve already signed it you don't have to take it if you don't want to”…“I can fix that”. Fighting very hard to hold back my tears I just silently shrugged and nodded, picked up the box and walked away to my car, feeling like the little girl who once again had lost her daddy…, only this time I knew he wasn’t coming back.

There in my arms I carried my father and placed him in the seat beside me. My numbness managed to keep my tears in check, but the drive back home became seeming long and unbearable as waves of mixed emotions pounded upon me…; Joy, laughter, sadness, confusion, anger…, all crashing and receding into a sea of utter loneliness. I was awakening with a hyperawareness that the last reason for my existence on earth was forever gone and so was my longest known identity. Never again would I be known by someone as their daughter. I pulled into my driveway, parked the car, and walked into the house. I left the box on the seat, for now the weight was much too great for me to carry anymore. There standing and waiting in the living room was my husband. His mouth speaking nothing, but his heart saying everything, as he wrapped his out stretched arms around me and cradled me with his amazing love. It was there where I could safely weep, and wept I did. I had not mourned the loss of my father until that day. I guess I never really could believe that he was gone.

There on my shelf my father was safely tucked away, waiting once more in a temporary holding place, but this made for me long grievous nights. I simply could not seem to get a hold of myself, night after night “What is wrong with me?” I wondered. My heart kept clinging ever so tightly to HIS promise “Weeping may endure for a night but joy cometh in the morning”. “Where is this joy Lord”? I cried “Where is this joy”. I slowly began to realize that my grief in part was that I felt so terrible about my father being cremated, it was not his wish, nor was it his children’s doing; and yet there was nothing I or anyone could do to change it. At long last my Lord and Savior lead me to Psalms 116:
“I love the Lord, because he hath heard my voice and my supplications. Because he hath inclined his ear unto me, therefore will I call upon him as long as I live. The sorrows of death compassed me, and the pains of hell (grave) gat hold upon me: I found trouble and sorrow. Then called I upon the name of the Lord ; O Lord I beseech thee, deliver my soul. Gracious is the Lord, and righteous: yea, our God is merciful. The Lord preserveth the simple: I was brought low, and he helped me. Return unto thy rest, O my soul; for the Lord hath dealt bountifully with thee. For thou hast delivered my soul from death, mine eyes from tears, and my feet from falling and I will walk before the Lord in the land of the living”
So thus a great peace came over me, and yes joy did come in the morning… in the rising of the SON in my heart.

The following day while at my computer I was writing a letter to someone about my father, when suddenly for no apparent reason, a picture of him just popped up on my screen. It was a picture that I had posted on this blog but why it popped up when it did, I don’t know. I nearly fell over backwards in my chair. It was most uncanny, but strangely reassuring. Somehow I feel that Daddy is appreciative and grateful to us all, given the circumstances, in taking care to release him into his final resting place. So now I propose to do just so. There are several options available as to where to go from here, but of those options, there are two things that I will not accept. First Daddy WILL be buried I can not in all good conscience allow anyone to have some of his ashes to put here and there on different mantels. Please forgive me if I offend, as I mean no disrespect to any but just having his remains here on my shelf waiting is unnerving as it is and I do so feel like they ache to be released into the ground. Second I will not pour him down his favorite fishing hole, grant it he was a sportsman but this isn’t happening, this would be disrespectful. Daddy WILL have a tombstone. So there are two cemeteries in which we can bury him one is back in Missouri around his home-place where his mother and brothers etc. are buried. Trish and our Aunt Ruby could help to do this, and I do believe they would do just that… very well. The other cemetery is in Phoenix, Arizona where Momma is buried. Sammy will help to take care of this and I believe he also would do just that…very well.
I will tell you that I myself desire greatly for Daddy to be buried by Momma. It would be nice to be able to see both tombstones together. I know Daddy is not from Arizona but neither was Momma. That’s just where we were living at the time she died. A lot of family has started to move into that area and somehow it just seems fitting for him to be there next to Momma. But selfishness aside if more of you desire for him to buried in Missouri then I promise I will make sure that is what we do, but You MUST contact me and let me know how you feel. Just a note… Amazingly enough just as I finished writing this blog, I went over to the couch to rest when the most beautiful eight point buck came strolling up into my yard not twenty feet from my door.
He just stood there in all his glory and gazed at me before he slowly turned around and walked back into the woods. It was so graceful and breathtaking that I could not help but to weep yet again. I have seen many does on my property but never any bucks. I know Daddy is approving and proud of us all. I love you much. Hang on a little while longer, and be at peace knowing it is almost closing time.