I have no idea why, but Shayna had told someone that when she passed she wanted to be cremated and have her ashes buried beneath a tree. Why a child of less than 15 would have that thought, let alone express it still baffles me. When she did pass, we had her body cremated. Some good friends bought a tree for us, but it turns out the tree was highly poisonous to dogs and we have two. So we returned the tree and got credit at the local nursery. We decided to get and plant a tree later. Months came and went and soon it was winter. Finally, almost ten months after her passing, Ty mustered up whatever it takes to pick up the ashes from the funeral home and to get the tree. I had no interest in doing so and after having had to make the arrangements, still wasn’t recovered enough for that.
Ty planted the tree and she put the ashes from Shayna’s body at the base of it. I choose those words very carefully because they are not Shayna or Shayna’s ashes. We are not these bodies. They are the remains of what comprised her body at the time she left it. Our bodies change with cells dying and being reborn all of the time. Every cell in our body will change multiple times over the course or our lifetime. The body is just a vehicle the soul expresses itself through. Shayna had one sweet ride she chose for her vehicle, but that was not Shayna. Shayna has traded it in and moved up. We just had to dispose of it once she was done with it. The tree is nice because we will always think of Shayna when we look at it, but I think of her first thing every morning and when I see her picture as I descend the steps in the morning and when I look at the tattoo I have in her honor and when I work out and hear her telling me to keep my butt down when I’m doing planks and when I walk and…. Well let’s just say I’m never not going to think of her.
I was thinking to make it easier on those that will have to deal with my body, I should make a decision. Cremation is fine. No need to display me at the funeral, everyone knows what I look like and no need to be hauling this thing back and forth. If you want the ashes, keep them. If not, pour them out somewhere nice or just toss them in a bin. It doesn’t matter. I’ve heard once we pass we look back at the body like an old coat or a robe we’ve slipped off. There’s no attachment to it other than maybe a fond memory or gratitude for the service it provided. I’m not all that attached to it right now. I sure won’t be once I’m done with it.
