Julie's Remains

Today, September 4, I went to the vet again, this time to bring Julie home. 

Pulling into the vet parking lot brought me back. The last time I arrived here, Julie was in my lap. We spent some time together in the parking lot until I said goodbye, and thanked her. 


The interaction didn’t last long. 


I knock on the door. An administrative assistant opens it. 


“I’m here for Julie’s remains.”


“Oh, yes, okay,” she says. When she returns, she gives me the box and says, “I’m sorry.” 


I put her in the front seat, with my hand on her — much like I would be if she were alive and here, and in her carrier. It’s a short drive home from the vet, but I can’t help but break down a little bit. 


I still haven’t decided where she belongs yet, long-term. Of course, I intend to make her a proper shrine in due time. Nothing over-the-top, but a space in the house that will always be hers, with her ashes and her photos. A place where I can sit and think of her. 


I’m considering three places:


1. My office. I’m the only one who goes in there. It’s quiet and secluded, and would be a nice place for me to reflect on her life. Julie did spend a fair amount of time in here, though it wasn’t one of her prime spots. It’s worth noting that much of that time was in hiding while she was sick, so that’s a strike against. 


2. The guest bedroom. Julie loved this room. It was her favorite place to sleep here, and one of her favorite spots to hide — and a place that she frequented at full health. It’s also where she and I spent ten days as I recovered from COVID. As for the strike against, well, it’s the guest bedroom. Guests will sleep there, and it might be odd for a shrine to Julie to be there. It’s also not a place I go often, although I suppose I would go in there once in a while if Julie’s remains are there. 


3. The basement. Seems like an odd place, but it was probably Julie’s favorite place in the house, and a place she was always drawn to. Whenever the door opened, she’d be right behind you. We spent hours together here. I knew it was time when I would open the door to the basement and not see her right behind me. The strike against: it’s the basement, and if you didn’t know Julie, you mind find this to be a morose or distant place to put her. 


For today, I put her in my office. I’m not sure if this will be the long-term place for her memorial. I have a few days off this week, which I hope to use for that purpose. 


After I got home with her ashes, I sat at the kitchen table for a good long while, holding them and thinking of her. I wish I could say I hadn’t cried a bit, but that would be untrue. 

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