The Power is in the Urn

Today we will recieve my brothers ashes. I don't know how to feel about that. I keep telling myself that if he's home that I'll be ok. The truth is i don't know how to feel. As the days have passed i have had the honor of serving friends and family that have passed by to pay their respects...and eat my food. The conversation goes a little like this.

Them: Hi, how are you feeling?

Me: You know, trying to take it one day at a time.

Them: I'm so sorry, my condolences. Hey do you think i can have a coke with some ice? (Ususally it happens in one breath)

Me: Blink Blink, sure lemme get that for you.

I just don't get it. Anyway, i'm having all this feeling of killing these people with my bear hands when my mom walks in. She tells me "Isis i spoke with the funeral home and they won't have the ashes ready until monday". Of course i look at her with the face and "yeah ok" her. I just felt this huge wave of relief. I didn't want her to know but i think that the wrinkles disappearing from my forehead and the quick but noticable sigh gave it away. She put her hand on my shoulder and said I know, me too.

I continued serving the "concerned" but i felt like i had dishornored my brother in some way for feeling like i was glad that he did come "home". How do you feel guilt and exculpation at the same time? I'll leave that for you to ponder. I still haven't found the answer.