An Orphan's Mother's Day

For bureaucratic reasons probably tied to the funeral industry's dislike of cremation, as it costs a fraction of a burial --it takes quite awhile to get one done in Florida. Mom died on April 27th, and the fastest her cremation could be performed was May 9th -- and that was with my annoying the funeral director. Jews like to bury our dead right away, but since Mom didn't go in for the traditional stuff, I guess the delay was no big deal. Still, as her son, I want to complete my final duties for her. So I called the Neptune Society on Friday, and they said they'd be mailing me the cremains (great word) in the morning. They send them US Mail -- registered. I went online with a tracking number, and learned that they made it to my local Pinecrest Post Office early yesterday am, and were scheduled for delivery during the day. I was supposed to go with Wifey and D2 to Miami Jewish, to visit her Dad and take her Mom to Soyka for an early Mother's Day lunch. When Wifey learned that the trendy eatery, just blocks from the Home served matzoh ball soup, she realized she could take my persnickety mother in law there. I wasn't too keen on visiting Miami Jewish or celebrating Mother's Day anyway, and now I couldn't; I needed to accept Mom's ashes, lest they sit in a post office for another 3 days. Sure enough, at 1:30 my zaftig mail carrier rang the bell, and I met her. She's about my age -- old school South Dade lady --and she handed me the package clearly marked "Human Remains" without acknowledging the cargo. I asked her if she were a Mom -- no -- just a godmom, so I wished her happy godmother's day and she beeped away in her jeep. I took the box inside, and opened the cardboard. Inside was a wooden case that reminded me of the box my favorite Irish whiskey Middleton comes in -- though the box is shorter and wider. It weighs about the same... So I put Mom on the rolltop desk in the family room. D1 came over -- she was nannying for a neighbor's girl -- and I made the obligitory black jokes about putting the box on D2's pillow and making spooky noises when she came home. We agreed that wasn't a good idea... D1 left, and later Wifey and D2 came home. They eyed the box of Grandma warily. D2 demanded we do the scattering as soon as we could -- to reunite her with my father -- the only love of her life. I pointed out it was Mother's Day, and Wifey requested a day at the local dog park, before we head up to Broward to see Bill Cosby with Dr. Dave and Maureen. Wifey volunteered to put off her wishes -- saying it was a privilege to honor Grandma Sunny instead, especially on Mother's Day. So that's the plan. We'll wait for D1, and then head somewhere to Biscayne Bay --either Matheson Hammock or Key Biscayne. Biscayne Bay is an estuary of the Atlantic - so Mom's ashes will be in the same body of water where my father's remains were scattered nearly 31 years ago. Mom never rushed anywhere. She was rarely late to events, but made it by starting out hours in advance. So I guess it's appropriate that her final material journey took longer than expected. The house is quiet. Mom's ashes are quiet. She was my mother and I loved her, and I took seriously my sacred job of caring for her and protecting her. So on this Mother's Day, I have one final act in that regard. Brunches and flowers are much nicer ways to observe the day.