Urning and Learning
Forget about being urn-appropriate. It's not a thing.
The more you urn the more you learn that there’s no such thing as decorum in your personal journey of loss. Try not to be concerned about conducting yourself appropriately and just go with it, whatever your “it” happens to be.
Sorry, but also not sorry for the “urn and learn” rhyme :-)
Back in December, a friend of mine was planning her husband’s memorial service and wanted some advice. She sent me the following text message:
“Would it be weird to wrap Chris in lights for his memorial? Like this?”
When I saw the photo I admit I almost felt a bit of urn envy. I thought it was a stunning idea and wished I’d thought of it.
I told her to do whatever makes her feel good and that her string-light idea added so much beautiful brightness to him.
I also told her I had my son’s headphones hanging over his urn for our service. He was a creator and lover of music and his headphones were a permanent fixture on him. It’s only fitting that they still are.
Not once did I think about the appropriateness of hanging studio headphones over an urn for a church service. If priests and old people didn’t understand, that was not my concern.
Our memorial was my one-time opportunity to let others know who Curtis was and what brought joy to his soul. Music was his love and it was a proper tribute to him.
I’d love to imagine that people everywhere are throwing convention out the window and coming up with uncommonly special ways to commemorate a departed loved one.
Have you ever seen or been part of a unique tribute for a lost loved one?
An urn anecdote to brighten this place up a little.
On the day of our memorial service, I had to transport my son from my living room to the church. I’m not aware of any urn-carrying protocols so I just picked him up and walked out the door, headphones and all.
I live on the top floor of a condo building and in my four years here I rarely, if ever, run into people on the way down. It’s a quiet building.
So, I get on the elevator, begin my descent, and wouldn’t you know it. The elevator stops to pick up another passenger.
This never happens…until I’m standing there with an urn wearing headphones cradled in my arms.
The man steps into the elevator and I’m not sure he fully absorbed what he saw because he asked how my day was.
I couldn’t help but chuckle while giving a downward glance at the urn saying, “Well…this sums it up best.”
We shared an awkward laugh and then parted ways in the parking garage.
I smiled all the way to my car and retold the story to everyone when I reached the church.
Thanks for reading this week. I hope it gave you a smile or two. Lord knows we could all use it.
Kristi
My late husband was a masterful woodworker, so we had half his ashes placed in a rosewood box that he had started and that my sons finished. The other half we placed in another box Richard had made, to be scattered from an airplane piloted by my eldest son on the first anniversary. When the time came, however, logistics presented themselves: propeller backwash, etc. We ended up renting a boat and consigning his ashes to Santa Monica Bay (sh). But perhaps the BEST urn I've seen was for a good friend of ours who happened to pass just a month before Richard: a wildly creative, hilarious, and light-up-any-room kind of guy, his ashes appeared at his memorial in an Andy Devine cookie jar. Absolute perfect for him.
Love this post 😍. So you!