The OTHER Box

The best part about this trip is seeing Leigh’s family. I’m feeling anxious about every other part of it. I’m especially happy to see Harriett. I’ve seen Will a few times and I’ve seen Les and Rachel for some good long visits in the last several months but it’s been a long time since I’ve seen Harriett. Harriett played a huge role in my life, not only as my Mother in Law, but she also worked for my company and we had daily contact about all manner of issues. Since Leigh’s memorial bash, we’ve not really spoken much. That probably has a lot to do with the twenty-year-old neighbor girl I was hitting on after Leigh’s memorial party. In my defense… we’ll I don’t think I really have to explain. Maybe you think I need to explain this. Just in case, I’ve set up a special FAQ to handle questions about this. It tells you everything to do in case your wife suddenly dies. It has a special section for those of you whose wife’s where intricately woven into your sense of self and who you are now lost without. It also has a special section on memorial service etiquette that you should pay special attention too. It’s available at www.doesnotexistandnowyouarefucked.com. Anyway, you can see why she was uncomfortable.

I really assed that up.

Harriett asked me a while ago if she could have some of Leigh’s atoms. I was happy to say yes. I’m not sure if Harriett feels the same way as I do about this but I don’t feel like I own Leigh’s atoms and it’s not my place to be the decider. But I was really happy she asked and I was really happy to say yes anyway.

I haven’t been ready to do anything with Leigh's atoms until recently. I really appreciate her family giving me all the time I needed and being really understanding about this. I feel privileged to have been able to make the decision about what to do with her atoms and I’m grateful that everyone supported the decision that was not even mine to make.

Harriett asked me about Leigh’s atoms very early on. I think it must have been even before her memorial shindig. She asked if she could keep a small number of Leigh’s atoms. Possibly two or three trillion of them. Just a tablespoon. I, of course, said yes. But at the time, the thought of opening the black plastic box was too much for me to bear. During that time, I was having really bad anxiety attacks. I don’t think anyone knows the full extent of these attacks except for possibly New Wife. To give you a hint about how these anxiety attacks worked: I would experience a triggering even such as having a thought about Leigh or a favorite television show would change nights or I would have a glass of water… and then I’d have a full-on anxiety attack. If you’ve never had one, then good for you. There is no explaining the experience.

Now that I’ve challenged myself with that last comment, I suppose I’ll try: An anxiety attack is similar to a shark attack. It feels exactly the same. If you think I’m exaggerating then you’ve never had one. If you have been attacked by a shark then I’ll pick a different more obscure analogy that you will not be able to claim some personal experience with.

Anyway, the thought of opening up Leigh’s atom box was so out of the question.

I went shopping a few times for a more appropriate atom holder but it didn’t’ work out. “Hi, I’m looking for a nice container that I can put my wife in!” and “Oh! That is wonderful! How many ounces will it hold?”. I wasn’t up for it. And honestly, I wasn’t up for the transfer. I did not want to open the black plastic box. I really cannot tell you how much dread that thought fills me with. So far, the contents of the black plastic box have been theoretical.

And honestly, I still don’t. I have been steeling myself for the moment in Vermejo when I have to open the box.

I’ve played different scenarios out in my head:

1) I am a solemn, brave, loving, strong pillar of a husband. I select the most beautiful spot at the lake and everyone nods their approval. I say some very sweet loving words any everyone starts crying silently to themselves. We are all able to maintain eye contact. I wet my finger and test the direction of the wind. I politely ask everyone to move upwind of me. I open the box, in one swift loving movement, and the contents whirl up from the container and spread themselves evenly into the wind. Some of Leigh falls on the ground I’ve selected, but some also drift towards the lake which is good because that is what Les secretly wanted to do with them and some drift into the air and go higher and higher and disappear from sight because that is what Harriett wished. William is happy that his parents got what they wanted and he is full of joy, but not too much joy, because it is a solemn occasion. We all walk away, silently, but slightly smiling at each other because of a job well done.

2) I get really sick and have to go the hospital that day because I’m unconscious.

Anyway, that is not the big problem. The big problem is that I need a smaller box to give to Harriett to hold the atoms she wants to keep. Not only do I have a transfer issue (do I do it before? Will I have an anxiety attack if I do that? Should I drive to the hospital and do it in the parking lot just in case? Should I wait until that day so I only have to open the black plastic box once? What kind of disease could I get on short notice that would cause me to become incapacitated?) See, I wanted this box to be special. I gave myself a pass on keeping Leigh in the black plastic box because I always told myself that I was going to spread the atoms anyway so it was fiscally prudent not to invest in a fancy box. But I told Harriett that I was making a special box for her.

I, in fact, did the following:

1) I bought a rock cutting saw so I could do it myself and it would have MEANING
2) I selected some rocks from home so they would have MEANING
3) I had my contractor make a small box out of rustic cherry-wood that I could use for the base box structure. I would have made it myself but realized that while that would have had additional MEANING, it was not realistic.
4) I cut the rocks into slices with the saw. I breathed in more rock than I cut and I got many MEANINGUL slices of unfortunate thicknesses
5) Per my contractors advice, I acquired mortar and silicon caulk. I planned on mixing my dead dog Scarlet’s ashes into the mortar so Leigh would be encased by MEANING.
6) I did not have a silicon caulking gun to make the juice come out so I pushed the handle of a squeegee into the bottom of the container and it exploded open and went everywhere
7) I glued three rocks to the box and I started to have a sinking feeling regarding the gap between what I imagined doing and what I was actually going to manufacture
8) The MEANINGFUL rocks I sliced did not fit the box so I started to cut them into smaller pieces and my hand slipped into the saw blade and I’m not sure how I did not cut it off but I got really dizzy in the instant after it happened and it felt like I had been kick in the nads
9) I went to my Fathers house and drank beer on his porch

So now, I have no box. My plan is that I will find a small box on the way that will be wonderful and will have MEANING. For a second, I looked in the Harley-Davidson store in Reno to see if they had a suitable container. I second later, I realized how not-well this would go over. This made a bit queasy.

I will find a box, somewhere between here and Raton. This box will be better than the box I would have made. This box will make Harriett happy. She will know, the instant she sees it, that I loved her daughter more than anybody that ever loved any girl ever in the history of all boys and girls who loved each other.

Let me check the FAQ. I think there is a section on appropriate containers for wife’s atoms, which I should read, so I don’t ass this up.