"The Rose" Urn/Box

Here is the final, finished box for my mom's ashes. Needless to say, the transfer idea did not work out. It will reside in a columbarium at St. Paul's Cathedral in Peoria, IL. I suppose there might be those who think it's kind of silly to put work into something that will then be buried, but for me it was therapeutic. It gave me a chance to imagine what it would be like to create something for my mom one last time. I know she would have loved it, because she loved her children and was proud of their accomplishments.

I have a whimsical notion that some day in the distant future, an archeologist will find the box and have to work out the details of it: what it was made of and why. Perhaps I should laminate a photo of my mom along with the words to the song and place it in the box... Maybe her obituary, too. Make it a time capsule of sorts.

Next on the agenda: finishing the slide show for the memorial. One of my brothers and his wife have been working hard on getting some other presentations together, and arranging for a family dinner after the memorial.

Love.

Ashes

My next project is to make a polymer clay box to go around the cardboard box my mom's ashes came in. I have never made a large box, and I'm pretty sure I could not make it sturdy enough to hold the ashes without the sturdy cardboard as a structure.

My plan is to make it very simple, and transfer the lyrics to "The Rose" by Amanda McBroom, which my mom wanted to be sung at her funeral, onto the top:

Some say love, it is a river
That drowns the tender reed
Some say love, it is a razor
That leaves your soul to bleed
Some say love, it is a hunger
An endless aching need
I say love, it is a flower
And you, its only seed

It's the heart, afraid of breaking
That never learns to dance
It's the dream, afraid of waking
That never takes the chance
It's the one who won't be taken
Who cannot seem to give
And the soul, afraid of dying
That never learns to live

When the night has been too lonely
And the road has been too long
And you think that love is only for the lucky and the strong
Just remember in the winter
Far beneath the bitter snow
Lies the seed
That with the sun's love, in the spring
Becomes the rose

Transfers are another thing I am not proficient at, so I'm thinking I'll need to go to a copy shop and have a lazer print made... or, if I can find my t-shirt transfer paper in the mess downstairs, I'll use my ink-jet printer. If it works, I may transfer a photo of her as well.

The box will be going into a columbarium in St. Paul's Cathedral in Peoria, IL.

The Storage Unit

Today was a rough day. My brother has the week off, so he and his wife offered to help dad and I clear out my parents' storage unit. My brother borrowed a trailer from their son, and we went at it.

I'm a hoarder by nature. I can see potential in things that other people might see as trash. I'm not so bad that I save old wrappers or food or moth-eaten sweaters (okay, I can still see potential in moth eaten sweaters....) but it can take me a very long time to clear out a space because I tend to want to make the most of what I'm looking through, and not send useful items to the dump/landfill. I come by this trait genetically. My dad has the same tendencies.

My sister in law is... not a hoarder. She gets going on a job and moves right through it. Dish chipped? Trash. Dirty? Trash. Not used in a long time? Donate. A box you haven't looked at in years? (It makes me panic not to open that box and look into it) So she and my brother are the perfect people for this job. They are "git 'er done!" people. I appreciate them. People like me need people like them.

The thing is, we were going through what's left of my parents' household items. Mom's clothes. Linens. Knick-knacks. Tons of collector's plates (mom believed the hype that they would only increase in value over the years... unfortunately I've seen collector plates in Goodwill for $5-10) some of which my father didn't even know mom purchased. China - some painted, some partially painted, lots of it unpainted - that mom was working on when she started to go downhill. There is a lot of emotional baggage when you are sorting through this kind of detritus. Part of me wants to hold on to it forever, the other part wants to let go.

Did I mention the mice? Yeah, the mice found the storage unit quite cozy and comfortable. Some things had to be tossed, because you can never ever get mouse smell out of stuff.

In the end, we got an unbelievable amount of stuff sorted, tossed and donated. At the end of the day, however, I found myself sobbing uncontrollably. My mother really is dead. I will never see her wear those clothes or paint that china. That mom has been leaving us for a long time, but now that she is really and truly dead, gone in every sense of the word, cleaning out the storage unit makes it final.

So hard to let go. Go forward.

Mom. I'll love you forever.

Heart Insert

Last Saturday, my mother passed away. She had a long, slow disease called dementia. It's a terrible disease that takes a person away in pieces. I took care of her for almost 3 years, but she spent the last 2 years in a very good nursing home, with caring nurses and nurse's aides. They did not have an easy job - mom was combative, anxious, angry and frightened. I wanted to do something to express my gratitude to her caregivers.

So I made polymer clay hearts, of course.

Thank-you hearts

Esther Cronk, circa 1970?

This is how I like to remember her. This photo is from when she was in her 40's. She looks so happy. This is the picture I'm keeping in my head forever. I love you mom.
Obituary For: Esther R. Cronk | Renner-Wikoff Chapel and Crematory

I haven't run away.... yet!

My friend, KellyK, says that people who read my blog will think I've run away (people read my blog?), which is her subtle way of saying "hey, you should update your blog!"

I'm currently at my brother and sister-in-law's home, where my parents are temporarily staying while we look for a home to share in Champaign, IL. (which, by the way, is not as easy as I thought it would be... the finding of one, that is) We are entertaining the idea of building a master suite on to our first floor. The problem is, it would not be completed for 6 months... at least... because it wouldn't be started until spring.

Another problem is that one of the cats my parents want to bring into the combined household (three cats are currently still at their old house, people are stopping by to feed them) is. and apparently has been for a while, spraying. Mom has already had to give up 3 of their 8 cats to other (good) homes, and I don't know if she can take losing another.

The cat is a sweet boy, very interesting face and markings. Shy, but once he warms up to you he's a lover. He was an outdoor cat, probably dumped, he's been neutered. What to do? Any suggestions? (And I'm not even going to publish or answer comments that say to euthanize him)

These are just a few of the items that keep me up at night. I lay in bed, trying to come up with workable solutions. I draw plans for an addition in my head. I imagine how we might fit into one of the houses I have looked at and what it will be like fixing up our current house to sell it in this wonderful economy. Eventually I go to sleep.

I've made some new beads. I just can't seem to get my act together, the umph to photograph them and list them.

So, perhaps I've satisfied Kelly and confused the heck out of my (ahem) hoards of readers. Hmmmm?