I got my mom’s urn yesterday and took it to my house. It was delivered to my dad, but we agreed that I would take it. When I was selecting the urn, I originally chose a generic marble marker that essentially looked like a tabletop tombstone which would have included her name, date of birth and date of death. I didn’t know where I would put it – seemed pretty creepy to have that thing sitting on an end table as a daily reminder and potentially off-putting to guests (not that I have a lot of guests to put off).

After going through the urn catalog (everyone’s gotta make a living, right?), I ultimately selected a different one – a blue urn made of blown glass that included no inscribings. It’s signed by the artist. Very elegant, like my mother.

The problem now is that it’s weird to have her body in my house. I find myself talking to her – saying hello when I enter, goodbye when I leave. I’m wondering if this makes me crazy.

I also wonder if she would want to be at home with me, or if she would prefer to be someplace else. Maybe sprinkled in one of her favorite places. But it doesn’t matter. She didn’t state a preference and for the time being, she’s with me whether she would like it or not.

People keep asking me if I’m “talking to anyone” about it. I wonder what there is to talk about. She’s not here anymore and it sucks. That’s the long and short of it – the summation of what this truly is. I think that anyone who’s lost a parent will agree. It’s something that has profoundly changed my life that I have to walk around thinking about, even when I’m not supposed to be thinking about it – or even when I appear that I’m not thinking about it.

I’ve always known this, but lately it’s been reinforced that our friends, family, coworkers and even strangers – everyone - wants us to be okay. When people ask how you’re doing, they’re subconsciously crossing their fingers, hoping the answer will be “fine, how are you?” Anything beyond that could be too much, and not appropriate for that conversation. It’s almost as if they want you to be okay for their sake – not because they don’t want to deal with your issues, necessarily – but partially because they don’t want to have to worry about you and hurt for you. If you’re okay, they’re okay. And they can proceed with worrying about their own issues that make them not so okay.

I also find it interesting that some people follow up the question “How’s you dad handling everything?” with “Are you dating anyone?” I get it, primarily. I know that people want me to have someone to talk about this with, because I’m not really big on talking about it with friends. Or anyone, really. However, I’m not sure that dating someone is the answer. I’m finding men to be pretty baffling these days, and because I’m slightly impaired and not on my ‘A’ game, I need something simple. I can’t say that the words “dating” and “simple” belong in the same sentence.

In fact, writing the column and being a dating analyst of sorts, I often wonder how the whole thing gets done with all of the mitigating factors. Especially as we get older and have more baggage. But I digress . . .

The transition of the week is trying to get accustomed to my mother’s presence, all while trying to get used to her lack of presence. The ugly side of life . . .