Interment

 Is this all his life is reduced to? A box of Ash. It's so surreal. I've spent one last night next to my husband and today I have to put him in tbe ground.

I've woken up feeling so anxious. I didn't expect that. Its like before the funeral all over again. I was actually on the brink of a a panic attack. Deep breaths, take a beta blocker, slow down. I've got 5 more hours until the interment service.

............................................... 

An hour to go. I feel numb now. I know it isn't him in that box, he left over two months ago. This is just a ritual, a final hurdle before the endless expanse of the new normal. It still doesn't feel real. Perhaps after this it finally will feel final.

.................................................

It is done. I walked down the lane approaching the church with my heart racing, and remembered walking down the same lane with my dad 14 years, ago, nervous and excited to meet my fiancé inside. I remembered walking behind my husband ten years ago, watching him carry our baby to his funeral. Today, I walked alone, carrying my husband's ashes. Just like on Bertie's day, the sun shone through and lit the way. He's found peace, I'm glad of that.  A short but respectful service during which I knelt and lowered his casket into a hole in the ground that one day may well also hold what is left of me.

I had wondered if after today it would finally feel final. No. It still feels surreal.