My journey with this is continuing. And I find I am ready again to write the next part.
5th February 2012
I am finding that I am struggling to bring myself to bury her remains. I had reasoned that this was one of the peculiarities of grief, and besides, I'm not allowed to dig yet. Today however, sitting outside having a cigarette, slowly becoming a living snowman, watching pure white perfect-for-skiing snow fall down, fingers of one hand freezing I realized the unspoken reason behind the reluctance.
I don't want her to be cold.
I don't want her to be cold.
And the irrationality and the power of this thought wind me and bring instant tears.
I don't want her to be cold.
Inside her sturdy cardboard box she is wrapped in a sealed biodegradable bag, securely bundled with bio-hazard tape. I wrap this bundle up carefully in one of my cotton handkerchiefs and return her gently to her box.
I have to do this soon. Tomorrow if I can get through the earth. Because bio-degradable packaging has a habit of well, degrading.
And still I don't want her to be cold.
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