No easy way to say this…you know they die.
Three days after I graduated from high school, The Parents crashed their brand-new, chili pepper red Porsche into a large oak tree on Blake Road…four short blocks from home…
They had been at the club and perhaps celebrating or maybe even lamenting the end of this parenting phase of their life. It was said to have been “a spectacular crash”…the Porsche going well over 100 mph.
Karlie and I were completely broken-hearted. Losing grandma Sylvia had been devastating but she had been ‘older’. The Parents were both only 50.
They had left strict instructions regarding any ‘death celebrations’…no funeral, no memorial service…nothing. Karlie and I picked up a large urn from Woodrow Funeral Home with both of their ashes inside. They wanted to be cremated together. Of course.
And then we all went home.
In less than two days, The Parents were back home, perched on the mantle over the fireplace in the living room. Together…forever.
Karlie and I spent over two weeks in that room, mostly crying but laughing sometimes too. We ate there and we slept there and we watched every single home movie The Parents had ever taken…over and over and over again.
We had only had them as ‘real parents’ for six short years…we were not quite ready to let them go…just yet.