Tiff in a Box

My husbands cousin is 27 years old and as I watched him hold his wife's ashes in his hands all I could think about was that he was going to go home to an empty house full of her "stuff'". Not her just her stuff. Little reminders of her everywhere but no Tiffany. Her clothes,her purse,her pillow,its funny how the little things all of a sudden become very significant. I wondered if he played there last conversation over and over in his head I mean he knew it was coming because she was terminally ill but when it happens NOTHING can prepare you for it. He looked so lost and alone but I know God has his back. I think about her 4 kids and how they must feel because I know what it is like to loose a parent but not at 17, 10,13 or 16. When we arrived at the funeral home they had just finished the service and I saw her mother , her children crying and her husband listening to all the usual "call if you need anything", "If there's anything I can do" and my all time classic favorite the ever faithful "Are you o.k.?" Just once I wish he would have said " MY WIFE IS @#$&*N DEAD DO I LOOK OK TO YOU?" I walked up to the front and all I saw was a poster board with some pictures and a box with an angel on top which I came to realize was Tiffany because we were under the impression that she would be cremated sometime after the viewing. But there she was in a white box with a gold top . After we went to the "Re pass " which is something I had never heard of before . Apparently that's what its called when everybody meets somewhere to go eat after which I never understood that concept but that's another blog for another day. After we ate we stood outside in the smoldering heat and just sort of chit chatted and observed. Now don't take this the wrong way but black people at a funeral is an experience all its own. Totally different from white folks. They are for real no putting on what you see is what you get and if they don't know you they will ask you who you are, how you know the deceased , and explain to you how they don't want to go inside just yet because they want to finish the beer they bought at the store down the street to help them deal with the relatives they don't necessarily care to run into. A funeral is nothing more than a family reunion in which the party responsible for getting everybody together didn't do it on purpose. We left and went home and his cousin came over after and said "Hey I got Tiff in the truck wanna see ?" " Sure" I said thinking he was talking about a picture he took of Tiff in the truck but when he came inside with the white box with the gold top I knew he meant he literally had Tiff in the truck. So he very gently took her out of the box and held her for a few seconds than handed her to me. This did not bother me at all. In my hands I was holding someones wife, someones mother, daughter,sister. I was holding someone that I had long ,deep, conversations with. I was in awe how the ashes in this bag used to be a person and is now dust. As I gave her back and watched him gently and lovingly put her in the box I wondered about my own relationship with Tiffany. I should have done this and could have done that. Why didn't I ? The more I think about it the more I am convinced that people just can't handle finality. Even if you know someone is going to die you think you have all the time in the world to say what you want and do what you want and its just not true. Just like salvation , for those of us who know the truth most of the time we think its somebody else's job to tell people the good news. We procrastinate and we put things off waiting for someone else to pick up the ball and run with it. Man I know it is such a cliche but life really is too short. I read about a sermon where a pastor described the dates on a tombstone and the dash between your arrival and your departure the dash representing your life and what you have done with it in that small length of time and let me tell you that really put it in perspective for me because it counts. When I stand before God He is going to ask me what I did with my dash. I would rather give an account of a life well spent than to try to justify a life wasted. Let all the stupid crap go and DO something and in the words of John Mayer "Say what you need to say".