I’m sitting on the balcony of my stateroom on a cruise ship waiting for the call to muster drill just before sail away. Don’t envy me too much, part of my son is in a lunch bag in the room’s safe.
We booked this cruise before Christopher died and the holiday season is hard enough without thinking about being on a ship filled with celebrating families over Christmas Eve and Day. However, I ultimately decided being here is what I needed to do.
Going through the port’s TSA line was surprisingly uneventful, unlike the last time I flew with Christopher’s ashes. A few days after the funeral, I had to fly them back to Florida with me. I was alone and still stumbling around in shock. It’s a miracle I didn’t end up getting lost and deplaning in Boise or some shit.
When I arrived at TSA Pre-check (do it, it’s miraculous if you travel a lot), I asked for a supervisor right away. A man came over and I told him I had my son’s ashes and the required travel paperwork. I held out a sad little handbag with a wooden box inside that contained a bag inside that.
He asked if my Christopher was a veteran, which pulled at my heart because he’d be about to join the military. The TSA agent was as compassionate and gentle with me as a person could be.
Once through, I wandered over to a bar near my gate and ordered something, I can’t remember what. I clutched the bag on my lap because I didn’t feel right about setting it on the table and I certainly wasn’t going to put it on the floor. Note to self: write a manual for grieving parents with suggestions on how to navigate the world with your kid in your purse.
As I stood up to leave, I accidentally bumped a man’s carry-on bag which fell over. I mumbled an apology and he was genuinely unfazed I’d knocked it over. In fact, he was apparently in quite the playful mood. As he picked up the bag, he chuckled and said –– I shit you not––”It’s okay, it’s just my grandmother’s ashes. HAHA! MY GRANDMOTHER’S ASHES!!!”
Look, I can’t get mad at the guy because unless he had x-ray vision he couldn’t possibly have known that was a terrible joke to make. Ordinarily I’m quick with a comeback but not that time. I muttered something, I have no idea what, and got out of there. I’m happy to say that I made it through today’s travel without incident.
It’s kind of ridiculous that I toted Christopher around in a lunch bag but let me explain. Immediately after he died, my brain short-circuited. I remember bits and pieces of certain days, long stretches of others, and am a total blank over some situations. For instance, I have no recollection of getting on the plane that took me to where his ashes were, the ride itself, or getting off the plane. I just remember getting in a car at the airport.
Although my brain wasn’t good for much in the those first days, it did one neat thing for me. It protected future me from some needless upset and decision-making. I bought clothes for Christopher’s funeral that I was prepared to toss out immediately after the service. I changed my watch face to some throwaway image I’d never care about seeing again. And I brought Christopher’s ashes home in a bag I had no intention of keeping.
I don’t remember whether I sent the bag to Goodwill or, for all I know, cut it into a million pieces and threw it in the garbage. I just knew I didn’t want that reminder in the house.
When it came time to bring some of Christopher’s ashes to the ship with us, I rooted around in our Give To Goodwill box and found an old nylon lunch box Michael no longer uses (the one in the picture at the top of this post). Perfect. I can toss it in the garbage or “accidentally” leave it behind in the stateroom after it served it’s purpose.
Current me thanks past me for thinking of little things like “what bag is good for carrying this urn but that you won’t mind parting with a few days later?” I honestly don’t think Christopher would mind being taken to the ship in a lunchbox, either. He had (there’s that word again, past tense), my ridiculous sense of humor and would probably ask if it matched my shoes or some silly thing.
I’ll be sending the urn overboard in the next couple of days. We’ll find out sometime tomorrow exactly when and geographically where in the Carribean this business will go down. In the meantime, Christopher’s just going to chill out in the safe and I’m going to to my best to stay as upbeat as I can during this trip.
The Captain just called for muster. Hmmm, funny. Everyone on this ship is gathering for a muster drill in case of catastrophe and I’m over here mustering the courage to deal with one that’s already happened. Wish me luck.