Ring around the rosie. Pocket full of posies. Ashes. Ashes. We all fall down.
Today marks the one year anniversary since my daughter's body became ashes.
Mike carried her in her little basket and put her in the crematorium. I screamed. I screamed. How could we be doing this to the child we loved.
That whole evening I thought about her. I thought about her flesh melting from her bones. The little heart necklace made of metal getting hotter and hotter and burning her sweet flesh. Her bones getting so hot they could not take it anymore and they crumbled beneath the heat. Why were we doing this to a child we loved.
I`m glad we did so much ourselves even if it was horrible and painful. Dressing my dead child is one of the worst things I have ever done. Holding her hand while she died was worse.
Samuel picked out the dress that she wore. He always liked to pick out her dresses and this was something he could do for the little sister he loved so much. Turns out he made a good choice. He chose one with a matching hat and we kept the hat instead of cremating it so we could remember the pattern of the dress she wore. The only other time she wore that little flowered dress was to a friend`s wedding in the spring of 2011. Before our life turned upside down and inside out.
So Eva is cremated. Burned. Ashes.
All of my sweet baby, scraped up into a little pewter horse that was meant to be a piggy bank for a living girl, never an urn for a dead one.This little horse sits on Eva`s shelf. Next to her picture. Unless people look closely at the engraving, not many suspect that this little horse holds a piece of my heart.
And today, one year later, here I am with all my impotent RAGE burning within me as not one single person remembered that it was the day Eva was cremated. The last day that I held her body was a year ago today. I looked at everyone with their smiling faces and not one person remembered. I probably wouldn't have remembered either, if it hadn't been my daughter.