Ash: (n) the powdery residue left after the burning of a substance.

I thought it was going to be an urn, but I guess I was on the budget plan.

When my young son passed away, we decided on cremation. There were two reasons–at that particular time we were traveling around and didn’t exactly have a “home cemetery.” And secondly, it was cheaper.

What they handed me was a black plastic box.

I carried it around for several weeks, a little bit spooked by the fact that my son’s entire life and memories were confined within this container.

Then one day, in a private moment, I opened it up. There was a plastic bag which was sealed, filled with gray dust.

I must have stared at it for a solid hour.

It was more than surreal. It was nearly mentally debilitating.

I had a picture of my son in my right hand, and in my left hand was a bag of his ashes.

I didn’t cry.

Rather, I felt great bewilderment, revelation and hopelessness, all at the same time. How could such a beautiful spirit, smile, giggle and mischief be burned down to a bag of what appeared to be the dumpings from a vacuum cleaner?

“Ashes to ashes…”

Is this really how we begin? Are we made from the dust of Earth?

And how do we reconcile that in our pursuit of creativity and invention?

After about an hour of staring at that bag of gray residue, I stuffed it back into the black container and have never looked at it again.

We are more than ashes and less than gods.

Wherever that revelation may take us is what we must truly discern … to be righteous.

Thank you for enjoying Words from Dic(tionary) —  J.R. Practix