A Tupperware Coffin
Mama wood boxes ordered a $10 plastic urn. The nit-pickiest woman on planet earth – the very same woman who pitched wood boxes a hissy fit if my roots were showing, or if I went to town without lipstick on, the woman who spent the last hours of her life shopping wood boxes for the perfect leather purse — picked out a Tupperware coffin.
Mama had pointed out the funeral home during a recent drive through town, told me she picked that one because they were affordable. I might point out that never in her life had Mama been one to skimp on spending money on her own wardrobe. The stories I could tell you about Mama and her shopping sprees.
It never occurred to me to ask her if she had picked out an urn. Oh. You should have seen the gardens Mama grew! Every rose bush specially ordered from Jackson-Perkins. Mama spent more money on her garden than she did my college education. Truth. How could such a woman pick Tupperware for her burial bed?
Although, let me just say for the record Mark Childress is a comic genius for coming up with CRAZY IN ALABAMA, the story of a woman who decapitates her husband wood boxes and carries his head around in a Tupperware bowl. My children were all in high school when I first read that book and howled until I cried. I read them parts of the book, and laughed some more. I”m pretty wood boxes sure that’s when each one of my children had their Come-to-Jesus moment.
I tried two different Pier Ones, three different gift shops, T.J. Maxx, where I actually did find an urn but then proceeded to drop the top and break it before I reached the check-out. A blessing really, as I told my sister, because you don’t want to be dropping the urn after you’ve put your mama in it. Linda agreed it was best to break it ahead of time.
I tried floral shops. And, yes, I could have gone to the funeral home and picked out something, but Mama loved beautiful things, and shopping. It only made sense to me that we find her urn at someplace she would shop herself.
There are a lot of beautiful vases that would work, the florist said, but it’s hard to get lids for them. Finding wood boxes an urn was really the only job I had to do beside get the guest book and write the obit (and it was already written and in print). Mama tasked Linda with doing all the funeral arrangements and Frank gets the chore of paying off Mama’s Nordstroms bill.
Tuesday wood boxes was New Year’s so that cut into my shopping opportunities. I didn’t think I was going to find an urn but I tried one more stop on my way home — Hermiston Drug Store. I figured at the very least they would have a guest book.
“Why, yes,” she said, stepping around the counter. Hermiston Drugs is the kind of store where they provide old-fashioned customer service. They actually escort you down the aisles. They have pretty good milkshakes in the lunch counter in the back of the store, too, if you’ve got a hankering for one. I didn’t.
Well, if there is ever a time a girl or a boy needs a hug it’s when their mama dies. If you meet somebody on the street or at the beach and they tell you that their mama has just died you owe it to all of humanity to ask them if they need a hug, because, trust me, they need it in the worst way.
“Uh, yes,” I said. “I need an urn. A vase with a lid. I saw one when I came in that I just love but the thing is it’s clear.” I walked Anita over to where I’d first eyed the leaded crystal vase. “It’s just so beautiful, I think my mother wood boxes would love it. But I don’t know about it being clear. wood boxes Do you have anything like it?”
I sent my sis a photo of the clear vase. Thank you, Apple. Then I called her and my brother. wood boxes I don’t think either of them were keen to the notion of putting Mama’s wood boxes ashes in a leaded crystal wood boxes vase that was clear, but both were reluctant to tell me no. We’ve tried to be that way with each other through all of this. Realizing we have our differences, talking everything out, careful to be tender because everyone wood boxes is so wounded already.
Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged wood boxes With: Apple , burial , cancer , coffin , Crazy in Alabama , cremation , death , Fenton ware , funeral , guest book , Hermiston wood boxes Drugstore , leaded crystal , Mama , Mark Childress , Nordstroms , Shelby Spears , urn , war widow 6 Comments
Karen, I thank you so much for these heartfelt, beautiful stories about this hard, hard journey. We just made the decision to move my 91-year-old mama into an assisted living memory loss unit nearer to us – watching her lose herself has been just about the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Prayers, blessings, hugs if I could send them as you do the service and walk out into tomorrow wood boxes without her.
I love that song, it is gentle and encouraging and I am praying for you too. I personally did not have a good relationship with my mother
Mama wood boxes ordered a $10 plastic urn. The nit-pickiest woman on planet earth – the very same woman who pitched wood boxes a hissy fit if my roots were showing, or if I went to town without lipstick on, the woman who spent the last hours of her life shopping wood boxes for the perfect leather purse — picked out a Tupperware coffin.
Mama had pointed out the funeral home during a recent drive through town, told me she picked that one because they were affordable. I might point out that never in her life had Mama been one to skimp on spending money on her own wardrobe. The stories I could tell you about Mama and her shopping sprees.
It never occurred to me to ask her if she had picked out an urn. Oh. You should have seen the gardens Mama grew! Every rose bush specially ordered from Jackson-Perkins. Mama spent more money on her garden than she did my college education. Truth. How could such a woman pick Tupperware for her burial bed?
Although, let me just say for the record Mark Childress is a comic genius for coming up with CRAZY IN ALABAMA, the story of a woman who decapitates her husband wood boxes and carries his head around in a Tupperware bowl. My children were all in high school when I first read that book and howled until I cried. I read them parts of the book, and laughed some more. I”m pretty wood boxes sure that’s when each one of my children had their Come-to-Jesus moment.
I tried two different Pier Ones, three different gift shops, T.J. Maxx, where I actually did find an urn but then proceeded to drop the top and break it before I reached the check-out. A blessing really, as I told my sister, because you don’t want to be dropping the urn after you’ve put your mama in it. Linda agreed it was best to break it ahead of time.
I tried floral shops. And, yes, I could have gone to the funeral home and picked out something, but Mama loved beautiful things, and shopping. It only made sense to me that we find her urn at someplace she would shop herself.
There are a lot of beautiful vases that would work, the florist said, but it’s hard to get lids for them. Finding wood boxes an urn was really the only job I had to do beside get the guest book and write the obit (and it was already written and in print). Mama tasked Linda with doing all the funeral arrangements and Frank gets the chore of paying off Mama’s Nordstroms bill.
Tuesday wood boxes was New Year’s so that cut into my shopping opportunities. I didn’t think I was going to find an urn but I tried one more stop on my way home — Hermiston Drug Store. I figured at the very least they would have a guest book.
“Why, yes,” she said, stepping around the counter. Hermiston Drugs is the kind of store where they provide old-fashioned customer service. They actually escort you down the aisles. They have pretty good milkshakes in the lunch counter in the back of the store, too, if you’ve got a hankering for one. I didn’t.
Well, if there is ever a time a girl or a boy needs a hug it’s when their mama dies. If you meet somebody on the street or at the beach and they tell you that their mama has just died you owe it to all of humanity to ask them if they need a hug, because, trust me, they need it in the worst way.
“Uh, yes,” I said. “I need an urn. A vase with a lid. I saw one when I came in that I just love but the thing is it’s clear.” I walked Anita over to where I’d first eyed the leaded crystal vase. “It’s just so beautiful, I think my mother wood boxes would love it. But I don’t know about it being clear. wood boxes Do you have anything like it?”
I sent my sis a photo of the clear vase. Thank you, Apple. Then I called her and my brother. wood boxes I don’t think either of them were keen to the notion of putting Mama’s wood boxes ashes in a leaded crystal wood boxes vase that was clear, but both were reluctant to tell me no. We’ve tried to be that way with each other through all of this. Realizing we have our differences, talking everything out, careful to be tender because everyone wood boxes is so wounded already.
Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged wood boxes With: Apple , burial , cancer , coffin , Crazy in Alabama , cremation , death , Fenton ware , funeral , guest book , Hermiston wood boxes Drugstore , leaded crystal , Mama , Mark Childress , Nordstroms , Shelby Spears , urn , war widow 6 Comments
Karen, I thank you so much for these heartfelt, beautiful stories about this hard, hard journey. We just made the decision to move my 91-year-old mama into an assisted living memory loss unit nearer to us – watching her lose herself has been just about the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Prayers, blessings, hugs if I could send them as you do the service and walk out into tomorrow wood boxes without her.
I love that song, it is gentle and encouraging and I am praying for you too. I personally did not have a good relationship with my mother
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