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We're friends, not doctors, financial or legal professionals, and we're not "grief experts." But we are here, and we've been "there."

Scattering his ashes was hard. His SCA household was with me, as were two of my house members. It was on the battlefield, which is what he would have wanted. We all took turns. In two scattering urns, everyone took a turn, making sure his ashes were well and truly scattered, as we weren't actually allowed to scatter him there. But where else would he want to be?  It was fitting.

Afterwards, they thanked me. They thanked me for making sure they were a part of things and keeping them involved. They told me that I'd always be family - like it or not, I was stuck with them now.

And we went back to their camp, and we drank and talked, and it was good.

I'm mostly okay with it now. Though for a long time I was torn between a calm peace of knowing he was where he would want to be, and guilt and blind panic that I'd just *left* him there. But it was done, and done well. Though I'm unendingly grateful to the one of my house members who came with me and held my hand. I knew he's one of the few people who could hold me together if I broke. I didn't, but it was harder than I thought to leave Howard there.

With my own hands, I carried him to Valhalla.

And I'm done.  I did it, every last bit.  I always told him that I'd be there to take care of him, and I did.  From doctors and nurses and wound vacs and hospitals... to cleaning, notifications, and seeing him home, I did what I promised.  

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Comment by iunderthefarmhouse on May 2, 2017 at 2:24am

Semper Fi. 

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