Pass the urn day, p.1
Pass the Urn Day, page 1
Pass the Urn Day
Sheri Duff
Copyright © 2021 Sheri Duff
This is a work of fiction, names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either a product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
All rights reserved.
ISBN-978-1-7369138-1-9
Cover Art by Oliviaprodesign
Sheriduffbooks.com
For Dani.
You are the light of my life!
You are my moon and stars.
You are my sun.
You are my blue sky.
You are the sweetest pitter-patter of the rain that helps all the flowers grow.
Forever,
Your Nana
"Birds sing after a storm; why shouldn't people feel as free to delight in whatever sunlight remains to them?"
~Rose Kennedy
Contents
Acknowledgments
Prologue ~ An Urn or a Box?
1. The First Letter
2. This is not my circus
3. Alexandria Clair Edmondson Walker! Larsen
4. What about her girlfriend?
5. Grammy Franny
6. The Second Letter. Pass the Urn Day
7. Hog’s Anal Gland
8. Spaceships or Georgia O’Keeffe
9. The Third Letter. Your brother, the incompetent one, lost the urn
10. Life, Death, and Toenails
11. The Fourth Letter. Let the Games Begin!
12. A special seat for the urn
13. The Fifth Letter. Bowling and a Big Plate of French Fries
14. Hook, Line, and Sinker
15. The Sixth Letter. Everyone needs something that is only theirs
16. He’s not a real man
17. Something Bigger than You
18. Just breast cancer
19. Debatable
20. The Seventh Letter. Crazy; Patsy and Prince
21. Spandex $$$
22. The Eighth Letter. What the world believes, and the truth
23. Sit back and watch, this will be fun
24. The Ninth Letter. One, two more letters. Two, Music
25. Is he going to die?
26. Bessa, are you watching this?
27. What’s wrong with you people?
28. The Tenth Letter. Enough is enough!
29. And he found his nuts again
30. Here you go, a woman is in the room.
31. Where is the urn?
32. I put my sugar in that. Not anymore!
33. You should go to the doctor
34. The Last Letter. ALL OR NOTHING!
35. And I just might say yes
Epilogue
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Always and first, God. Without Him, I am nothing.
Sirach 2:7-9
You who fear the Lord, wait for his mercy;
and turn not aside, lest you fall.
You who fear the Lord, trust in him,
and your reward will not fail;
you who fear the Lord, hope for good things,
for everlasting joy and mercy.
Duane, you are my heart and my breath. I will forever be eternally grateful you chose us. Without you, we would not have the blessings of our family. What started with four has grown to twelve. And who cares if it wasn’t in a traditional way! We are filled and blessed with love and chaos—just the way I like it. I’m ready for more. You are “my six”, you always have my back. Thank you for always loving me and supporting me in every way possible. I love you.
My family. We all raise each other in some form or another.
It takes a tribe to write and publish a book. I’m so very grateful to all who have crossed my path and helped me. Thank you to my critique group. Several years later, I’m finally publishing my story. Jodi, thank you for always being my cheerleader, you are a cherished friend. Thank you, Cate Byers, for editing my story. To the entire community at Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers and Pikes Peak Writers, there are way too many people to mention, but everyone who I have crossed paths with for either thirty seconds, or hours and hours sitting at the bar, you’ve inspired me.
Thank you, Daddy and Deb for telling me truths. I want you to know; I know the difference between your and you’re—You’re the best.
April and Jennifer, this all started with a funny conversation at work. I’m grateful for the camaraderie we shared. I miss spending my days with you two!
Prologue ~ An Urn or a Box?
Julia Larsen, known to her family as Bessa, a name given to her by Letti, sat on the brightly colored chaise lounge with her laptop, searching for urns. She tugged at the worn quilt her own mother had made so long ago, pulling it off her feet. “These suck,” she said, scrolling through the website.
“What sucks?” Letti, her favorite—and only—six-year-old granddaughter tried to look at the screen.
“Vases,” Bessa said.
Letti climbed up the side of the couch and plopped next to her grandmother, taking a piece of the quilt between her fingers and rubbing the soft fabric. The two of them, although fifty-nine years apart in age, looked like they were the same weight. Pancreatic cancer was taking Bessa. Bessa wore pants with drawstrings so she could cinch them, forcing them to stay on her body. She owned an assortment of these pants in various colors, all but black. Sporting tie-dye sweats and a t-shirt that read Don’t be a Richard, she typed in a new search.
“Why do you need a vase?” Letti asked.
Bessa kissed the top of Letti’s head and then inhaled the strawberry-scented detangling solution used to comb through her pile of chestnut curls. “Because when I die, they need to put my ashes somewhere. Remember how we talked about that?”
“Will you fall out of the vase?” Letti asked.
“Nope. These have lids.”
“It should be pretty like you, Bessa.” Letti touched her grandmother’s cheek.
“I want something fun,” Bessa pat Letti’s hand, then continued to scroll. “None of these are right.”
Alex, Letti’s mom, Bessa’s daughter-in-law, walked from the kitchen to the family room and peeked down at the computer. “What the heck?”
“UrnsForU.com,” Bessa pointed at the screen of all things death: urns, headstones, and cremation keepsakes for family and animals.
“Seriously?” Alex exclaimed.
“I will die. Sooner than later. We need to get this done and I don’t want anyone but me planning this funeral. If my kids have a say in it,” Bessa rolled her eyes like a teenager, “nothing will be the way I want. They will stress. I don’t want them to have to worry about anything. Funerals are ridiculous, but they’ll do it, anyway. They never listen.”
Alex leaned in closer and said, “They all have an opinion, that’s for sure.”
“I like the purple one,” Letti said.
Alex studied the options. “I like the pink speckled one.”
“No, the purple one.” Letti squirmed before touching the screen again.
Bessa pulled Letti close, “It looks like a bunch of stars swirling in the sky. Did you know the universe goes on and on forever?”
“What’s the universe?” Letti asked with her eyes open wide.
“The stars.” Bessa moved her face closer to Letti.
“Do speckles go forever?” Letti asked.
“Nope.” Bessa smirked.
Letti leaned forward. Her left brow rose. “Don’t get the speckles.”
“Time for bed, Sugar Plum.” Alex said.
“I’m not a sugar plum.” Letti yanked at the quilt and covered her face.
Bessa flipped the white quilt with hand-stitched granny squares off of her and then tickled Letti before slowly getting up from the couch. “Come on, Snuggle Bunny, I’ll read you a story.” Bessa held out her hand, which Letti took without argument.
Alex lifted the quilt off the chaise lounge and folded it before setting it back on the arm of the chair and whispering under her breath, “How are we going to survive without you?”
1 The First Letter
Father Joe, the last to leave the reception, handed Alex a purple envelope on his way out of her and Lukas’ home. “Bessa wanted me to give this to you. She asked that you read it to the family—once everyone left.” He paused, tilted his head and smirked. “She wanted all of you to gather on the Saturday after the service to read it. But she said none of you would wait. And she may have said you were all a pain in her ass.”
Alex let out a quick puff of air through her nose and giggled. “I’m sure she did.”
Father Joe then handed Alex a smaller, pink envelope. “This is for Letti.”
Alex could feel the lump in her throat when she swallowed. It felt like the on start of a cold, but what she probably needed was more water. She held on tight to the envelopes. “Thank you. For everything, Father.”
“I’m a phone call away if you need anything,” The priest paused, then said, “Or you could come to mass with Lukas and Letti.”
“I’ll do that,” she said, knowing full well she wouldn’t. Mass was not Alex’s thing. She went on the holidays, and for the important rituals for Letti, but that was it. Letti went with Lukas and Bessa when Bessa was alive. Alex knew Lukas would continue the tradition for his mother
Alex placed two fingers on her right temple. She walked back into the house where her daughter, Letti, her husband, Lukas, and his siblings, Jens and Nora sat on the sectional in the living room. The siblings—clones of their parents—all inherited the soft brown hair color their mom once had, and their father’s light blue eyes. Bessa had instructed everyone to wear denim and bright colors for her service. They wore denim, but Lukas and Jens both decided on charcoal colored button-down shirts. Only the tags on them were different. Lukas’ read Ariat, while his brother Jens sported the Hugo Boss label.
Nobody, not even the dog, sat on the chaise lounge with the quilt draped over it. It was the one of pieces of furniture Bessa had given to Lukas and Alex when they bought the house from her when the cancer invaded her body. Bessa had insisted they make the house theirs. Alex felt guilty at first, but when Bessa brought home paint strips, they had a blast picking out colors. Both Alex and Bessa loved color. Alex painted each room a different color, and Bessa finally got her plum bedroom down in the basement where it was cooler. She liked it that way. She also had the biggest bathroom in the house.
Lukas stared out the window toward Pikes Peak, and Alex wondered if he even noticed the beautiful day and the way the snow perfectly capped the top of the mountain. His sister, Nora, rested her head on his shoulder. Letti, whose pigtails were falling out, found comfort curled up in her Uncle Jens’ arms. One of her hands held on to his, while the other clenched a block of wood Bessa had given to her. It had a woman and child painted on it, and on the back of the block in Bessa’s handing writing read My Little Angel and Me.
Travis, Nora’s boyfriend of nine years, cleaned and organized the trays and trays of funeral food brought by Bessa’s friends. His brightly colored button-down matched the plum scarf Nora wore on her neck to give her denim midi-dress the flair her mom requested.
Alex joined Travis and placed her hand on his arm. “Leave it. It’ll wait.”
Nora's voice traveled from the other room, “He can’t let it. Let him clean. It will give him something to do. He can’t sit idle. He’s like a car ready to race, his engine revving at a stop light until it’s put into gear.”
“Vroom, vroom.” Travis combined meat and cheese trays, ignoring Alex’s request.
“I’ve trained him well,” Nora said. Nora and Travis were in their ninth year together. They both had impressive jobs in the financial world and no desire to get married or have kids–so they said.
Bessa had thought differently and shared those thoughts with Alex one night after the family gathered for another so called Could be The Last Supper. “Do you see the way Nora looks at Letti?” Bessa had asked Alex. “I don’t care what they say, they’ll have babies.”
“Do you think Travis wants kids?” Alex had asked Bessa.
“Travis loves my daughter. He’ll do whatever she wants.”
Alex’s stomach turned, which brought her back to the gathering. Realizing she hadn’t eaten, Alex went to the refrigerator and found the deviled eggs she had stashed in the back after seeing them on the table at the beginning of the day. She bit in and chewed slowly. With food still in her mouth, she said, “Oh my god, who made these, they taste like my Mother’s, the relish in them,” she said, “turmeric and ginger.” They reminded her of family gatherings with her mother and father so long ago. Before their divorce, before her mother moved back to England.
The silence in the room broke her second of contentment. Bessa wouldn’t want us to be like this, Alex thought. She held up the envelopes the priest gave her. “I have letters.”
The three siblings looked up. Letti’s little body stayed limp in her Uncle Jens’ lap.
Alex held out her hands. “I can take her to her room.”
Letti sighed.
Jens tightened his hold. “I’d rather keep her, if that’s okay.”
Alex chuckled. “She’s got you wrapped.” Jens, unlike his brother Lukas, drifted in and out of relationships. Letti was the only female, besides Bessa, he caved to. According to Jens, Letti could do no wrong, and she knew it.
Alex sat on the ottoman and faced the siblings, showing them the front of the envelope.
Let’s Get This Party Started!
Sketched beneath the words were doodles of party hats, confetti and balloons.
“Only Mama would think this is a party.” Nora said.
Alex opened the letter and handed the envelope to her. Nora, like their mom, loved to doodle. As Alex read, her voice changed to mimic her mother-in-law—alive, vivid and full of spunk.
Thank God, it’s finally over. Really. Did the priest keep that smelly incense away? Oh, wait. That’s right, no Mass! Ha! I’m not Catholic. Service only. Unless I converted. Doubt it. You can thank me for that. You didn’t have to sit through an hour-long mass. And you didn’t have to go out to a burial site and listen to more dull talk of my life and death. Did I tell you, Father Joe kept trying to convince me to bury the ashes? I told him no. He tried to convert me too. Nice kid. But really, is he even old enough to be a priest? I told him ‘no’ on the conversion. Not joining Magnus’ church. Sorry, didn’t mean to bash your father. Is he here with you?
“Hell, to the no.” Jens’ entire body stiffened. Letti wiggled and scanned the room. Jens rocked back and forth a little. “Shh.”
“Your mom obviously feels the same way,” Alex said before continuing to read the letter.
If so, Magnus, you need to leave.
He probably isn’t, even though he should. For you kids—not me.
Lukas chuckled, “Keep telling yourself that, Mom.”
“What do you mean by that?” Jens asked.
Nora slapped Lukas on the arm and then pointed at Jens, but he raised his hand and pointed to Letti.
“Shut it. I want to hear what Mama has to say,” Nora said.
“You know, she never stopped loving him,” Lukas said.
“Duh, now shut the hell up.” Nora said.
“Hell is not a nice word.” Letti mumbled.
Lukas let out a heavy sigh. Alex covered her mouth, trying to hold in the laughter.
“Nice, sis.” Jens covered Letti’s ears.
“Oh, shut up, boys. You two and your grey shirts. Mama wanted everyone to be colorful.”
The brothers stood at the same time. While Lukas undid his belt, Jens placed Letti on the couch, then they dropped their pants to show off their tie-dyed boxers.
Nora covered her face. “Oh, God. I didn’t need to see that. I will never unsee that.”
Alex waved the letter in the air. “Are you all done? Can I continue?”
“Go ahead, but Mom did not have a thing for dad.” Jens yanked up his pants.
“Bessa told me she would always love Grandpa,” Letti said.
“Ugh.” Jens flopped back onto the couch, and Letti climbed back into his lap.
I bet he tried to sneak away from that hag girlfriend of his, but she probably wouldn’t let him come. If’s she’s in my house, there will be a swirling wind happening soon. I will come back and haunt all of you. Except Letti.
“Bessa loves me the mostest,” Letti whispered. Her lashes fluttered.
But if she is here. Just so you’re aware Nancy, Magnus and I legally remained husband and wife until the day I died. Yep. Take that.
Nora stared at Alex.
“What?” Lukas breathed.
Jens spit. “There is no way in hell.”
“Should I go on?” Alex asked.
Lukas nodded, “Might as well. Not sure if it can get any worse.”
My most amazing children, you three are the best thing I’ve ever done. Ever. I can never repay God for the gift He gave me in you. Never, EVER forget that. You three have always been my heart.
