January 15th, 2011: Ima Rhiannyr

I was cleaning out the cubbies in the lounge (must be spring) and found that safe place I stash things. You know the place, we all have one… the place where people ask you where something important is and you reply “I put it somewhere safe” and then it dawns on you that it is now SO safe that even you can’t find it.

In my ‘safe place’ I found my 18th birthday card from my mother, the only one she ever gave me (I’m 28 now), a 3-year-old anniversary card from my husband, 13 hair bands (god knows), my birth certificate and a cordless control for the games console. Through other little glimpses into time swept out the cubbie I saw at the back a familiar maroon box. I pulled it to the front, caught out by quite how heavy it was considering it’s two-thirds the size of a loaf of bread. With the box on my lap and no glasses I scrunched my eyes and nose up to read the stark white label I knew already. ‘The remains of Edward W******’.

My Dads ashes never did suit scattering. He didn’t like the sea and had no particular fondness for graveyards.

I still have his passport and book of life, which hold the last real pictures I have of him. The way I remember him.

I comfort myself with the thought that he would like the idea of staying with family.

It may sound odd that this stems from guilt for something I couldn’t have prevented. Due to dementia he didn’t recognise any of us and lived his last moments ‘abandoned’ (in his mind) by his family, surrounded by strangers.

Which reminds me… I must get him a new box. My 5-year-old son was so fascinated by ‘Granddad’ that he took great pride in explaining his life and death philosophy to his teachers and classmates. Oh don’t be impressed… in his version we reach an age where we spontaneously combust, get boxed, tagged and shoved into the TV cabinet.

Still (lol), its one up from my daughter at that age who stood outside the church and thoughtfully asked, “Who mows Gods lawn?”

____________________

Ima Rhiannyr is a re-incarnation of an avatar first rezzed in 2007 and has been around long enough to see what poor sculpted shoes can do to the moral. Ima has been on many adventures through SL from clubs to furniture design but has never enjoyed it as much as she has this last 6 months surrounded by a business that is not only a reflection of her but also (and most importantly) the love of good friends and family. In RL, Ima likes to lick stamps and criticize the use of council tax in the neighbourhood. She is a big fan of Mickey Mouse. The first CD she bought at 15 was Michael Flatley Lord of the Dance. Ima is still living this down.

 

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