Morgan wants to return to Atlanta practically the moment it’s over. She’s eager to get back. (I can’t believe that a week or so ago I thought she and Dad might get married. I know that will never happen. They are way too different. Plus, Aunt Morgan has her life in Georgia, and Dad has his here in California.)
Anyway, Dad and Aunt Morgan want to scatter the ashes tomorrow, so Aunt Morgan can fly to Atlanta on Sunday and go back to work on Monday.
But I am not ready to scatter the ashes.
I CANNOT DO THAT TOMORROW.
I think I have talked them into having the ceremony on Sunday. Aunt Morgan can return on Monday and start work on Tuesday.
I just need a little time.
And I have to say that when I asked if we couldn’t PLEASE put this off until Sunday, even Aunt Morgan looked relived. I would like one nice restful, peaceful, school-free day tomorrow before I face the ceremony.
Saturday 3/27
11:36 A.M.
I actually slept late today. Slept until almost 9:00. Dad and Aunt Morgan slept well too. When I finally came downstairs, they hadn’t been up for very long. The three of us sat around the table eating toast and cereal, and talking. We talked about our plans for the day. I said I was going to do homework in the morning and see Dawn and Ducky in the afternoon. Dad said maybe he’d better get himself over to the bookstore, for a few hours anyway. And then Aunt Morgan said,
“What about the women’s shelter?”
“What women’s shelter?” I asked.
Dad and Aunt Morgan glanced at each other, which was not a good sign.
“What women’s shelter?” I asked again.
“Well,” said Dad, but his voice trailed off.
“We’re going to donate your mom’s clothes and things to a shelter downtown.”
“Donate her clothes?” I cried. “Now?”
“Sunny,” said Dad.
“But Dad, she’s only been dead for eight days. Why are you getting rid of her things already?”
“Sunny, why should we keep them?” Aunt Morgan asked me.
“Why shouldn’t we? Would Mom want us to get rid of every little piece of her so quickly?
You’re making it like she never existed.”
“You know that’s not true,” said Dad.
“Well, that’s what it feels like.”
“But we’re going to keep plenty of reminders of Mom. We have all our photos. And the house is full of things she bought or made.”
“We’re just going to give away the things we have absolutely no use for, such as her clothes,”
added Aunt Morgan.
“Frankly, Sunny,” Dad went on, “some reminders of her are a little overwhelming for me. I can smell your mother’s scent in her clothes.”
That made me sit up straight. I wasn’t sued to hearing Dad reveal such intimate, personal things.
Besides, I knew what he meant. Walking by Mom’s closet was almost shocking. Still …
“Well, what if I want some of her clothes?” I said.
“Keep whatever you like,” Dad replied. “I won’t give away anything you want.”
“She left some of her jewelry to you,” said Aunt Morgan. “Quite a bit of it, actually.”
“Okay,” I said. I wasn’t sure what else to say because suddenly I felt very confused. Giving away Mom’s things made sense — and it didn’t. I wanted her clothes and jewelry — and I
didn’t.
I left the kitchen to think for awhile [sic].
When I returned, Dad and Aunt Morgan were still sitting at the table, talking.
“You already called the women’s shelter, didn’t you?” I said.
“Yes,” replied Dad.
“Without asking me?”
“Some decisions are going to be mine alone. I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is. I’ll include you whenever I can. But not always.”
I don’t know why, but that made me feel calmer.
“When are we going to take Mom’s things to the shelter?” I asked.
“In a couple of weeks,” said Dad. “It’ll take me awhile [sic] to sort through everything.”
“Do you want me to help you?”
“If you’d like to.”
“Okay. But not today.”
“We don’t have to start today.”
1:06
Anyway, Dad and Aunt Morgan want to scatter the ashes tomorrow, so Aunt Morgan can fly to Atlanta on Sunday and go back to work on Monday.
But I am not ready to scatter the ashes.
I CANNOT DO THAT TOMORROW.
I think I have talked them into having the ceremony on Sunday. Aunt Morgan can return on Monday and start work on Tuesday.
I just need a little time.
And I have to say that when I asked if we couldn’t PLEASE put this off until Sunday, even Aunt Morgan looked relived. I would like one nice restful, peaceful, school-free day tomorrow before I face the ceremony.
Saturday 3/27
11:36 A.M.
I actually slept late today. Slept until almost 9:00. Dad and Aunt Morgan slept well too. When I finally came downstairs, they hadn’t been up for very long. The three of us sat around the table eating toast and cereal, and talking. We talked about our plans for the day. I said I was going to do homework in the morning and see Dawn and Ducky in the afternoon. Dad said maybe he’d better get himself over to the bookstore, for a few hours anyway. And then Aunt Morgan said,
“What about the women’s shelter?”
“What women’s shelter?” I asked.
Dad and Aunt Morgan glanced at each other, which was not a good sign.
“What women’s shelter?” I asked again.
“Well,” said Dad, but his voice trailed off.
“We’re going to donate your mom’s clothes and things to a shelter downtown.”
“Donate her clothes?” I cried. “Now?”
“Sunny,” said Dad.
“But Dad, she’s only been dead for eight days. Why are you getting rid of her things already?”
“Sunny, why should we keep them?” Aunt Morgan asked me.
“Why shouldn’t we? Would Mom want us to get rid of every little piece of her so quickly?
You’re making it like she never existed.”
“You know that’s not true,” said Dad.
“Well, that’s what it feels like.”
“But we’re going to keep plenty of reminders of Mom. We have all our photos. And the house is full of things she bought or made.”
“We’re just going to give away the things we have absolutely no use for, such as her clothes,”
added Aunt Morgan.
“Frankly, Sunny,” Dad went on, “some reminders of her are a little overwhelming for me. I can smell your mother’s scent in her clothes.”
That made me sit up straight. I wasn’t sued to hearing Dad reveal such intimate, personal things.
Besides, I knew what he meant. Walking by Mom’s closet was almost shocking. Still …
“Well, what if I want some of her clothes?” I said.
“Keep whatever you like,” Dad replied. “I won’t give away anything you want.”
“She left some of her jewelry to you,” said Aunt Morgan. “Quite a bit of it, actually.”
“Okay,” I said. I wasn’t sure what else to say because suddenly I felt very confused. Giving away Mom’s things made sense — and it didn’t. I wanted her clothes and jewelry — and I
didn’t.
I left the kitchen to think for awhile [sic].
When I returned, Dad and Aunt Morgan were still sitting at the table, talking.
“You already called the women’s shelter, didn’t you?” I said.
“Yes,” replied Dad.
“Without asking me?”
“Some decisions are going to be mine alone. I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is. I’ll include you whenever I can. But not always.”
I don’t know why, but that made me feel calmer.
“When are we going to take Mom’s things to the shelter?” I asked.
“In a couple of weeks,” said Dad. “It’ll take me awhile [sic] to sort through everything.”
“Do you want me to help you?”
“If you’d like to.”
“Okay. But not today.”
“We don’t have to start today.”
1:06
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