The highlight of yesterday:

Mom, Katherine and I are at my grandmother's house, assembling the village that stands under the tree every year. Side story: every year Kat and I come up with a different theme. Last year, the animals were a choir. The year before that, West Side Story. We considered creating a "normal" village this year, then realized that Grampy would have been very concerned. "Now why would you do that?" he'd say. So, in his honor, Kat and I did something completely different, and spelled out "Merry Christmas!" with the larger animals, and formed an ornament with the babies. Of course, we thought we were absolutely hilarious, as we tend to do. There you go, Grampy, hope you like it.

Anyway, Kat and I are under the tree, Mom and Grammy are discussing the details of Saturday's memorial service and interring of the ashes. The lovely tidbits I overhear:

-Grampy is sitting up in his favorite room, in a little velvet pouch. Thankfully, I didn't notice that when I went in there to collect the village box.
-Some of his ashes are to be sprinkled in the orchestra pit at the Metropolitan Opera, in a nook where they won't get vacuumed up...this admittedly is pretty cool.
-And a tie for the most bizarre: "I've sprinkled a tablespoon of him in my drawers," and "Would you girls each like a baggie to take with you?"

Likening my grandfather's ashes to a bag of cookies to take on the road (which is how nonchalantly she asked it)...well, it was a little strange, I have to tell you. I'm the first to say that they're only ashes, devoid of any soul, any life. But still, I think they should be regarded with a little more reverence than leftovers. I'm just saying. Dear lord, this is going to be a long weekend.