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 Category:  Biographical Non-Fiction
  Posted: March 31, 2017      Views: 36

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 ABOUT
DEEJHARRINGTON 
It?s been such a very long time since I?ve logged in. I have been in a kind of mourning for my writing. It started as a writer?s block. I don?t know anyone who hasn?t experienced that. But, mine carried on for too long. Months then years went by and - more...

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The Case of the Missing Urn
"Family" by Deejharrington



There are a couple things you, dear reader, should know. I have always been the "historian" of my family. All the photos, silver, china, and jewellery has ended up in my possession. I listened carefully to my grandmothers' stories about relatives gone before my birth. I especially loved hearing the tales of my great-grandparents. They owned a series of hotels in Michigan during the late 1800's to early 1900's. As usual, I seem to be off point. Which is, along with the family traditions and treasures came the responsibilities.

For as long as I can remember I companied by parents to the family grave site. Each Memorial Day, we would plant geraniums, ivy, and a couple spike plants in the large urn. The urn itself had guarded the headstones for many years. It may have been placed there by the first occupants; my great-grandparents. Since the death of my mother, I have taken on this duty. Well, except for last year, I screwed up. I didn't go.

I am glad I did visit last fall. For some reason I took some pictures. The one you see with this post is the last time I saw the urn. It has disappeared. It wasn't something one would walk away with. It surely weighed at least fifty pounds.

The only reason I was at the cemetery in March was to sign off on my final payment for my funeral. No, I am not suffering from some fatal, lingering ailment. I want it done a certain way when my time does come. So I made the plans awhile ago and have been making monthly installments. My mother's grave was the last plot open so I will be cremated and interred at the foot of my dad's. Why not my mother's you may ask? Don't, its a story for another time.

After I had gone over the arrangements and signed off, I drove around to say hi to the relatives. Normally I have no problem finding the spot. You simply drive around the two Grinnell mausoleums and park next to the urn. I parked and looked around, a little confused. Had my crappy memory done it again? There was the tree, behind me the Grinnell's, but where was my family? I found the stones but it suddenly occurred to me why I was disorientated. The urn was gone. What the hell?

My girlfriend had followed me, so I explained my confusion. I remembered I had pictures in my phone. I scrolled through them hoping I had one of the urn. Armed with the proof, I returned to the office. Where was the damn urn? Nobody there had any clue. I filled out a form and was told they would be in touch. I am not holding my breath it will be found.

In a way, I should be relieved. One more responsibility to cross off my list. But it is just one more thing of my family that has disappeared. As the years go by, I have fewer touchstones of what once was. If they don't find it, I will insist they replace it with something close. Then I guess I need to go geranium shopping.

Author Notes
I guess this is a "ramble" but I am trying to keep my hand and mind in writing. It's not coming as easy as it once did.
Spellcheck is not cooperating so sorry for any errors.
Pays one point and 2 member cents.

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