We had Gable cremated after the vet put him down last week because we want him with us and we couldn’t bear the thought of his body being just thrown away somewhere. He was a part of our family in life and his memory will continue to be in death. Having his ashes, we’ll know a part of him is still with us.

His ashes came in the mail today. Yeah, in the mail. Talk about your emotional whiplash. I came home to find a big package on the front step and I got a little bit Christmas morning excited, wondering what cool thing Beth had bought or Zoe’s Bubbe sent her or I had ordered for myself and forgotten about. Then I saw the label and I knew it was Gable. I went from goofy little thrill to crushing sadness in about 2.4 seconds.

I brought it in and left it on the table. It took me awhile to open it. I didn’t want to face the finality of it. For the last week, I keep momentarily forgetting he’s gone and thinking I see him. Every dark shape on the floor when I’m locking up the house at night is Gable. Every night, I start to open the front door to call him in for the night before I remember he’s gone. I keep forgetting he’s gone. It still doesn’t seem real. Opening the package, holding his ashes in my hands — that would make him gone.

When I finally got around to opening the package, I was surprised. I was expecting something drab and utilitarian. For one of our old cats, for example, Boris, his ashes came in a big steel can with a plain white label. That’s not what was in this package. For Gable, they put his ashes in a really nice stained wooden box with his name on a plaque, something suitable for display on a fireplace mantel. Peeling away the bubble wrap to find this beautiful box was like a punch in the gut. That’s when it really hit me that he’s gone. Holding that box, reading his name on the plaque — that’s when it really hurt, even more than a drab can would have.

So Gable’s up on the mantle now in his beautiful box, with his name on the plaque, looking oh so suitable for display, and it’s oh so wrong. Gable doesn’t belong in a box up on the mantel. He should just be here with us, alive.