It’s Only Carbon…

Dearest Rachel –

The day before your memorial service, Jenn and Lars drove me up to the Milwaukee funeral home where your body had been transported after I had authorized the plug to be pulled on you, and you were declared dead. They were the nearest place that did cremations, and it would be cheaper, faster and more convenient to have it done there and transport your urn back down here for the service than to ship your body down here for cremation. I suspect both you and your family would have approved of my choice, given those parameters.

On the way back, Lars reminded me, “Those ashes you have there, remember, that is not Rachel. Those are merely carbon atoms that once were part of her body. Her spirit, her soul, is not there anymore.” I may not have the exact words, but the meaning is there.

I think I get what his point was; the thing is, there is nothing of you left in those ashes. There is little point to my venerating them like some holy relic. And, to be fair, it’s not like I give your urn a kiss on the lid like I occasionally did early on after bringing you home and setting you on the coffee table in the newly-cleared-out sunroom. It just sits there, waiting for the day when I finally honor your wishes to have you brought and scattered per your wishes.

But if it’s really “just carbon,” why should I even go through the effort of doing that? If there’s no longer any connection between the ashes in that urn and yourself, why should it matter to you, me or anyone else what happens to any of it?

You’ll recall how, when we were planting a “W” flag at my grandmother’s grave a few years ago – at your suggestion, of all things – when her beloved Cubs won the World Series, you described what you wanted done with your ashes. My parents – my dad, especially, didn’t think much of the idea; we’d had a few relatives that had opted for that form of memorial, and at least one of the deceased’s children complained that they “had no place to grieve” without a burial site. The thing is, the “just carbon” argument applies to a body as well, doesn’t it? It’s just a hunk of well-dressed, rotting meat. It doesn’t contain one’s soul or spirit any more than the ashes do. Sure, there may be a stone propped up where that chunk of meat has been buried underground, but no one’s there, any more than anyone is in that urn. So what’s the difference?

I don’t think there really is one, to be honest, while at the same time, I think there is some significance to both the ashes and the body. It’s not so much that you’re there anymore, but the value is in the fact that you were there. Yes, those ashes are just carbon, but it was carbon that was once a part of you. These atoms once connected various other atoms – hydrogen, oxygen, nitrogen and phosphorous – to construct the strands of your DNA. Really, it’s no more you than your notebooks or your old clothes, but they are still a treasured keepsake.

And there is the fact that I had made a promise, albeit an informal one (without a will to make it legally binding) to cast you upon the shores of your favorite place on earth. Some requests simply transcend life, honey, and if this is what you wanted done, I don’t think I have the right to refuse you, especially since it’s within my power to grant. You’re going to have to wait for about twenty-two months for that, though, although we at least have a fairly certain date and time now.

And in the intervening time, there’s been some progress with regard to creating a totem upon which to center and grieve on (should it be necessary), even after most of what is left of you has been scattered within the Lake Erie waters. Here’s the first glimpse of the crystal grown from your carbon:

At the moment, it’s in a fairly raw state, but it pretty much fully grown. I’m told that it will begin the cutting process shortly, which will turn your ashes into a fully faceted diamond, for me to bring to the same fellow I bought your engagement ring and our wedding bands from, to create a final setting for you.

I’ve also thought of another thing to do with a small quantity of those same ashes; while you can’t travel with me the way I’d like you to, I can still take you with me in jewelry form. I’d found a few pendants that serve as small vials, like this one…

It had crossed my mind to bring something like this along with me on my next trip, and sprinkle just a few grains at every stop, so that a little bit of you gets to both visit and stay at each location – honestly, I wish I’d thought of this beforehand, on the last couple of trips I’ve taken. Still, better late than never.

There is one problem with a pendant like this, however…

I know it’s not something you asked for, in terms of final disposition, but I’d like to think that, given that most of you will still be brought to the shores of Schoolhouse Bay on the east side of Middle Bass Island, and set adrift there, you’d be okay with my taking a little bit of you for other purposes like this. Heck, I’ll even send you pictures along the way, if you’d like.

Until then, honey, keep an eye on me, and wish me luck. I’m going to need it.