In Memory of Akasha
I went to pick up the remains of my cat yesterday at the vet. Alex was with me when I dropped her body off in a rather large box wrapped in a towel; needless to say, the box returned was substantially smaller. Alex immediately began to ask questions.
“Mommy, is Kasha in that box?”
“Yes, baby.”
“How did they get her in there?”
This is the point I should have had some amazing Mommy answer, some magical and wonderful explanation that I’d researched for this very moment. I, however, am a procrastinator, and thereby failed miserably in trying to explain cremation to a four-year old.
“Well, when you die, your spirit goes to heaven, but your body stays here on earth and you have to do something with it or it starts to smell funny. Sometimes, you bury it in the ground, or sometimes you cremate it.”
“What’s cretate?”
“CreMATE. It’s when you burn the body and make ashes.”
“How do they do that?”
(Dear God, yes, I said this to a 4-year old.) “They put it in a big oven.”
“They put Kasha in an oven????”
“Yes baby, but she was gone already. Her spirit is in heaven. She didn’t feel anything, because she was gone already.”
“But I thought you said she was in the box?”
Abstract concepts such as spirituality and transcendence are probably best explained to a 4-year old after a bottle of wine, I think. A few moments passed before Alex spoke again.
“Mommy, is Bubby going to die, too?”
“Yes, sweatheart. Eventually, everything dies.”
“Are we going to put him in the oven, then?”
DOH.