Hurt

"Are they going to burn him?"

Not a question you'd expect from your garden variety 6.5 year old boy about his Mimi's (My Lovely Bride's Mom for those playing along at home) brother's funeral arrangements. But for the Elder Boy, who's first question to me after my Mom died was, "Where's her head?" not so unusual.

"No" I said. "They aren't going to burn, errr...cremate your Uncle Jimmy. They're going to bury him."

"Oh." Ethan said, looking thoughtful. "I think I want to be buried."

"Really...? What about all the bugs and ants?" I said, proving yet again why I'm father of the year. My certificate must have got lost in the mail.

"Oh." he said looking nervous. "I didn't think about that."

"Your Uncle Jimmy is going to have a military burial." I said trying to steer the conversation away from my asinine comment about bugs.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Uncle Jimmy was in the military. I think he was in the Air Force." I explained. "When you serve your country, you earn the right of having a military funeral. They bury you in a special place. Put a flag on the coffin that they give to the family during the ceremony. They have an honor guard there."

"Oh." he said. "What's a honor guard?"

"It's a special group of military guys that come to the graveside and do special things for people who were in the military." I said. "People who request or want a military burial."

"Oh." he said.

Life is funny.

Which is why I found myself standing at the stove making macaroni and cheese while thinking about the conversation Ethan and I had the day before about his Uncle Jimmy and the rituals surrounding death. What people want when they die. As the clock hit 1:26pm on Saturday, October 18, 2008 I realized that on the 2nd anniversary of my Mom's death My Lovely Bride and her Mom were at Jim's memorial knee deep in their own grief while 750 miles away I was knee deep mine. Two years removed of course. But still hurts. Bad enough for me to shed a tear, which rolled down my cheek and into the macaroni and cheese.

"Daddy?" Ethan asked the day before.

"Yes son." I said.

"Mommy wants to be burned." he said.

"Yes," I answered. "Mommy wants to be cremated."

"Daddy." he said.

"Yes, Bub." I said.

"What do you want to be?" he asked.

Death like life is funny. Even though we all know we're going to die, it's not something we like to think about. Consider. It's messy. We want to sweep it away. Change the proverbial channel.

"What Daddy?" he asked again. Confused by my silence.

"I'm not sure son." I answered truthfully.

"I guess what ever is the the least expensive."

Until I BLOG again...But I remember everything.