Back in September I wrote about a little vial I keep in my purse. Yes that little vial. Well it wasn't the only one I made. I made one for my daughter. She kept it in her jewelry box. That's right kept. You see someone broke into her and her feller's home just before the holidays.
The person or persons who went in took thing of an unusual nature. From Jud they took his father’s guitar and you would have to know the whole story behind that instrument but it was special. The poor young man lost his father last year in another country and it was one of the only personal items they came back with his remains, his father like my mother was cremated.
The history behind this guitar was spectacular to say the least. Jud’s father had traveled all over the world playing with some of the best know entertainers and this guitar had done some major traveling with him.
Now Gina had some expensive pieces of jewelry, not many but some, however these pieces or the most part weren’t taken. They did take a couple of antique gold watches, one having belonged to my grandmother and the other was one that my father had given me when I was in junior high. They were both gold. No not gold filled or plated they were both gold. They took those but left other real gold and silver pieces undisturbed. Go figure.
Back to the vial. Now Gina’s little vial had been done up in a fancy necklace that she could have worn without drawing a lot of attention outside of the fact it was an attractive piece. She never really wore it and I really didn’t expect her to but the option was there should she ever felt the need. Gina was heartbroken over the loss. I haven’t asked her if she explained the contents of the vial to the police but I’m assuming she didn’t. Remember my little fictional story of what that might bring on. If not I have reposted it for those who haven’t read it.
Gina was crying as she related to me about how her grandmother’s ashes had been stolen. It tore at my heart how hurt she was over this violation of her privacy and the things that meant so much to her. She talked about the pain of the loss for several minutes when she suddenly became angry. I could see in my mind that little vein in her right temple bulge as her blood pressure went up. What followed was one of the funniest things I have ever heard in my life.
She cursed and fumed for a few minutes then in the scariest voice I’ve ever heard she said, “I hope they snort it.”
“I beg your pardon?” I responded.
“I hope they snort my Meme’s ashes and get a hell of a surprise from it.”
Now I’m not sure what surprise she might wish upon them unless she hopes her grandmother will come back and haunt the asshole or holes, knowing my mother that is a real possibility, or they get seriously sick or worse but either way it won’t be pleasant for them. I do know that taking the ashes of a deceased individual isn’t something I would want on my conscious and I hope they ultimately find out they stole a dead person. Hey you with the vial of powered material. You do know that is part of a body you have there and when pissed off in life she was bad enough but if there is an afterlife and if she is capable of coming back your ass is screwed.