As I sit here, waiting for my steam mop to heat, I watch the Apple Dumpling Gang, as they cavort and roughhouse with each other. They are so big now – 25+ lbs and 18 weeks – and it seems like I blinked and they’re grown. I realize, I’ve entered a new season of life, one I’m not sure how I got to. When did I get to be in my upper 40’s when just yesterday, it seems I was a newlywed in her 30’s?

This season of life, especially the last 9 months, hasn’t really been my favorite. My daddy, my stepdad, a childhood friend’s father who was a comforting father figure, the father and two mothers of three high school friends, have all passed away recently. And while I know that dying is a part of life, I’m not sure I’m quite ready for all this end of life stuff.

Daddy’s urn arrived a few weeks before we returned to California for his memorial. The unopened outer box sat in our formal dining room. I just couldn’t face opening it. Yesterday, while Mathew was at a corvette function, I felt like enough time had passed. I was compelled to remove the shipping box. I wanted to see the urn.

It’s made of reclaimed wood, very “farmhouse” and rustic. I chose it so that no matter where in the house I placed it, that it wouldn’t scream “urn” but would belong. I know Daddy would approve of that. But I wasn’t quite prepared for the overwhelming finality of what this beautiful box represents. 75 years of life, lived large and fully, is physically contained in this 8x11x6 inch box. I sat with it in my lap, my hands running over the rough-hewn wood, tears streaming down my face for quite a while. It weighs a lot less than he did in life, proof that the human body is approximately 60% water.

I let Annie & Coal sniff the box. Annie didn’t pay it much mind. Coal sniffed it, looked at me for a while and then licked it, before settling down next to me. Maybe it was my tears, but there was a strong sense he knows the contents. He loved my dad, who had a way with animals. I told him that Grandpa would always be here with us now. Coal leaned his head on my knee, as if to say, “Ok.” I held the box with one hand, while my other stroked Coaly Bear’s head. It was a touching moment, one he and I have had before with Tank & Missy’s remains.

I hope I never get used to losing a loved one. It would be nice, though, to have that loss spread out because this cluster of losses is very hard to bear. Hug your loved ones a little tighter, spend a little more time on the phone with them. Visit as often as you can. Because you never know when you’ll find yourself holding an all too small box for someone that was larger than life.