The day has finally come, the day when it all becomes real.
When Kevin's mom asked me in April where I thought his ashes should go my first through was Ely, Minnesota but she wanted him to come here to Chicago. Chicago, his home, the only place where he felt at home throughout his life, the place where he was happiest, the place where we planned a life. At first it seemed like an honor to be given such a task, the job of figuring out where his physical being would go, but then I just felt overwhelmed. We never talked about what would happen if he died. I spent our four years together trying to keep him alive. Death wasn't a real option. I mean, I guess, we all knew it realistically could happen with the way he lived his life, but it wasn't something we were planning for. So I chose Montrose Harbor. It was sorta the perfect place, a combination of my life with him and his life with his friends. He spent many days, ones he had off and ones he called in "sick" to, at the harbor fishing with friends, and Montrose Beach is where we used to take Lola, plus the lake was somewhere special for us (and most Chicagoians). It's one of the best parts of Chicago and we tried to take advantage of it.
As today approached I kind of dreaded it. I didn't know what I would say to Nancy, despite us talking on many occasions since April. I didn't want him not being here anymore to truly be a reality. In the past three months there were times when I could forget, because I went days at a time without talking to him when he was alive so this could feel the same. But now, when Nancy got here with his ashes in her passenger seat, there was no more pretending. The last remains of his physical being are in baggies and jars all over my apartment. He's in my cupboards, in my entertainment center, in the pot he painted in 2004 and signed "KMH" on the bottom that sits on my microwave (which has a "666" sticker on it thanks to Kevin). I held his ashes in my hand, felt the fragment of bones between my finger tips. I rubbed what was left of him into my skin and it all felt so surreal. I stood in my kitchen putting a little bits of the man I once planned to marry into plastic bags so his best friends could do something special with him. I told them "I put a little Kevin in your bag" or "don't forget your Kevin," like he's something we ever could.
We met at the harbor. It was slightly difficult to get everyone together but eventually we all found our way. I made a playlist of bands that Kevin liked and we played it while we all settled in. It was kind of awkward...I mean, how do you start this sort of thing? I don't have any experience with scattering ashes and I don't think anyone else did either. Nancy tried a couple of times to ask what people thought, but I don't think any of us were ready. When it just seemed right we all walked to the edge of the lake and each took a hand full of ashes and went to our own little place and said our goodbyes and that was it. What seemed like the hardest thing to do was done in minutes. We sat in silence, looking at the lake or the skyline. Just silent. As the time passed we started sharing more stories and comforting each other, this big group of people who lost this huge part of them all trying to put the pieces back together.
All of us are missing part of our heart now that he's gone and it was nice that we could share this little silent goodbye, despite that fact that it's only the beginning. James, Ian and Jove snuck into the clubhouse and scattered some there. James put some in the cracks of the bar at Stella's, which resulted in me obsessively trying to rub the ashes into the crack so he won't get swept away when they clean. That, in turn, left me rolling a small piece of bone between my fingers as I tried my hardest not to cry (that didn't work). But we all made it through. I'm lucky to live in this city where so many people loved him and had him in their lives for so long. I can share my stories and listen to theirs. We can share our pain and grief and tears and understand what the other person is going through. When the boys cry and say they lost their friend they understand when I say I lost my love because they saw it. They saw our whole relationship, the bad and the good, and I saw theirs and now all we're left with are memories and small momentos.
I can look at the pictures, the cards he gave/made me, the things he made, the things he fixed in this apartment, the dog we shared together and now the small pieces that are left of him. I have these physical pieces of him left with me. I don't know that I'll keep any of his ashes. Some will go to India with me next year, to fulfill his dream of being there, some will go to other places that were special to us. I don't know. I would give absolutely anything to not have his ashes, for him to be alive somewhere. I would trade so much to not have this pain anymore, for this to be easier. But I can't. This is where I am and this is what I have to work through. I miss him every second of every day. I miss the hope of things to come and for prospect of better days for him and I. I miss so much about him that I'll never have again and it breaks my heart.
Nate and I got into a mini argument today because I told him that I'm broken, that I'm missing a part of me that I'll never get back. He refused to hear it. He said I keep living and so I'm not broken. I just can't agree. Nothing is the same without Kevin here and I don't know that it ever will be. I just keep trying to figure out how to make this new reality work and hope that one days it hurts less. Until then I will hold onto my pictures and cards and memories and keep telling Lola that her poppa loves her so she won't forget him. I'll cry almost every day when I think about him. I'll wish he could see the good things I do and feel the joy that's out there and take comfort in the fact that I loved him and he loved me very much and for a little while we had everything we needed. We had our little life with our little family and it was something really special.
So now I have baggies and jars full of gray ashes and white bone fragments and difficult nights and sad days,happy memories and regrets. I have pain. I have joy, joy in the fact that I had seven years with this amazing and flawed man that touched everyone he knew and left so many people sad when he left us. I could never let him go when he was alive and I don't know how to do it now that he's not. I know I have to. I'm trying but it's hard. This has been, quite possibly, the most difficult three months of my life but I keep going. So here I am. This is me adjusting to this reality, and this was us saying our goodbyes.
at the lake after we each scattered our handful
Now, for today's addition. Nancy and I went to Wrigley Field and snuck Kev's ashes onto the field. We rubbed him into the grass, into the foul are dirt, in both the visitors and Cubs dugouts and in the stands. We tried to be sneaky about it but, you know, there's only so much you can do when you hands are covered in dark gray ash.
my hand, kevin's ashes, stella's bar
I don't know, this still sucks a lot. I wish I had a more profound way to finish this, but that's just it. It sucks. The whole process blows. I hate it. I hate that he's gone every day and second.
