Grief turned to intimacy

D. was one of my first customers. She saw a story on Bobrocks in the local paper on the 3rd wedding anniversary she had had to spend without her beloved husband, and she took it as a sign. She brought her husband’s remains over, a friend driving with the urn seat belted in. D. could not tolerate any part of the process, could not look at the ash, did not want to handle the urn, all of it was still too painful. She watched me scoop some ash out with tears running down her face.

A few days later I called to tell her that the rocks were done and I was speaking to a changed woman. I offered if she wanted to bring the urn back, I could put the excess ash back in and she declined. “Oh, I can do it. I don’t want to drive that ugly box around any more,” she said. She came right over and held each beautiful rock. Then she took a few outside to look at them, holding each up to let the summer sun shine through. She was “oohing” and crying at the same time, and so was I to see how profoundly they touched her. Then she climbed up into her truck and roared off.

That night I prayed for her, knowing we had opened up a huge wound but hoping we had helped in her healing. I called her the next morning to see how she was doing and found her in a wonderful mood. “D., I was thinking about you last night, imagining you sleeping with him under your pillow.” She burst out laughing. “Oh, I slept with him last night, but I’m not going to tell you where I put him!” I love my customers.

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