Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Funeral Homes and French Fries

It's strange how life is different after receiving a death sentence. It's also strange how much of it stays the same. Like when it rains only on one half of the street, or Bell's Palsy, or standing on the border of a state line. You are one foot in normal and one foot in a whole new crazy, jacked up world.

Something is profoundly different yet life just keeps going on around you. It makes me dizzy.

Last Monday we went to the funeral home to sign some paperwork and make the cremation arrangements ahead of time. I called Robert to let him know I was on my way. He was at the McDonalds getting a burger so I told him to get me some extra fries. We sat in his truck in the parking lot eating fries and chatting, just like any other ordinary couple. It was a beautiful day. It was normal.

The we walked through the doors into another realm. Signing cremation papers for your unborn child and talking about the different flavors of death certificates for babies is not normal. Not normal at all. Not normal like eating fries in a pick-up truck.

Surprisingly it wasnt as bad as I thought. That is after I cried the whole drive there. I might have freaked out the funeral director when I walked in and burst into giggles at the sight of the wall of urns. Is giggling like a 15 year old girl in a funeral home normal? Not sure about that one.  It was just so surreal. Its like walking into a store to pick out shoes. They come in small, medium and large sizes. You want wood or marble or a little sculpture, they have it. And what is with all the Asian inspired urns? If there are any funeral home peeps reading this here blog of mine you need to step it up a notch in the urn department. Just saying. Something cheerful would be nice.

(me at 26 weeks)

This is how we live our lives these days, straddling the abys. One foot in normal and one foot in a whole new crazy, jacked up world.

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