Little Warrior

Today we went to the crematorium. Yes, crematorium. Isn't that weird? It was an out-of-body experience to be there picking out a tiny urn for Wyatt. I want to do a small ceremony for him when we go backpacking in August.

Anyway, we went to this place, which was impossible to find. I woke up feeling out of sorts and exhausted and looking back seemed to play the part of "quiet person who lost their baby" just because I didn't know what else to do and the whole thing was surreal. JP was great and he was all about business and honestly made the trip happen, because otherwise, I would have caved though it was something I'd really wanted.

So. We were there and the place looked stale and very dated. There was a (much) older woman who must have volunteered there for hundreds years. Everything smelled kind of stale. This lady was nice enough but not completely sympathetic (still trying to figure out how people act around this type of thing). She walked us through all of the paperwork and then said that we could spend some time alone picking out the type of urn we would like. We immediately walked over to the tiny pill box sized vessels and she said, "Oh no, you should look at the next size up." (The size of a small salt or pepper shaker).

"Oh," I said, "what are these tiny ones for then?" thinking is there a smaller being that would be cremated? She replied cheekily, "Those are just in case you want a piece of grandma!"

So, we tried to find something in the proper size that didn't--in Jared's words--resemble an Easter egg. We got a simple silver urn with a subtle pattern on it and called it good.

Then we paid and Jared detached himself from my side--I just realized how glued together I have felt to him the past few days--and headed to the rest room leaving me and the Crematorium lady to sit in silence together, she at her desk and me in a chair placed awkwardly far from her desk, making small talk challenging. Not that I wanted it, but still.

She looked up at me over her spectacles, and said gently:

"Do you know what the name Wyatt means?"

I shook my head no.

"Little Warrior" she replied, her eyes twinkling.

And with that, Jared came out of the bathroom and we headed out. The moment between me and the Crematorium lady was over, but now that I know this, his name seems an even better fit--if only as a reminder to be strong when I need it.