Would Your Lost Loved Ones Haunt You For Doing This?
Mine would probably laugh that I've used them as a paperweight.
A few years ago, I did an exceptionally magical thing. A thing that I totally made fun of before actually finding myself significantly intrigued.
I couldn’t imagine how much you’d have to dislike a deceased person to turn them into a paperweight. That’s almost like telling someone they remind you of a tree stump. If I were the dead guy, I’d probably haunt the person for the rest of their life.
Seeing the following in a Google ad just made it feel creepy and impersonal, like they’re preying on sad people, but seeing it happen right before your eyes is nothing short of spellbinding.
I never thought I’d stoop to the level of turning my child into a paperweight, but after a fellow grieving mom mentioned a glassblower in a town near me, I couldn’t resist checking out exactly what people do with cremation ashes.
Have you ever seen the Netflix show called Blown Away? I’ve watched it and was astounded by what artists can do with glass. 😯
Who knew that dipping a rod into molten lava could turn into something other than a fiery lump of oblong, gooey shtick that could burn your eyes out if you look at it the wrong way?
And, did you know the hole they dip their rod into is called a glory hole? Yeah, I laughed too. Please resist the urge to Google that phrase; it won’t turn out well for you.
I booked a private appointment with the glassblower rather than just dropping off my son’s ashes. I wanted to watch the sorcery with my own eyes. I also wanted to ensure I would actually get my son back, not someone else’s grandma.
Driving into the workshop yard was like driving into Fantasia. A long, country driveway was lined with the sculptures shown in these photos, and frigid December snow just added to the mystique.
The temperature inside the shop was around 120 degrees Fahrenheit, so if you’re having four pieces made, you’ll probably leave after watching the first two. Unknowingly, I showed up in full Canadian winter attire and a pandemic mask that had me hyperventilating within minutes. David, the artist, was wearing shorts and a tank top.
In hindsight, I’m sure the heat level inside that studio would have killed any trace of Coronavirus on contact.
After introducing myself and my mother, I presented a Ziploc bag, introducing it as my son. David had two chairs placed for us to sit and watch the magic begin.
He allowed me to film the entire journey from ashes to beauty, but requested that I not post it anywhere. Apparently, glass blowers are highly competitive, and none of them want their secrets made public.
He spread my son’s ashes out on a steel table next to a pile of fine, white powder that glows in the dark.
Then the dipping, spinning, kneading, shaping, cutting, and more dipping progressed. Throughout the entire presentation, David explained how each step contributes to the finished product.
I was fantastically captivated.
The following video isn't David or the studio I went to, but I really wanted to share at least one YouTube video so you can get the full effect. If you’re hooked, you should definitely watch the Blown Away series on Netflix.
After all was said and done, I came home with four softball-sized, perfectly imperfect, glow-in-the-dark spheres laced with my son’s ashes and his angel color of blue.
I’m pretty sure everyone on earth has read the story of his angel color, judging by the number of comments it earned back when I wrote it.
I chose the glow-in-the-dark option because two of the spheres were gifts for his children. I wrote a little card about their daddy’s angel dust glowing in the night, as a reminder that he is nearby.
Back in my terribly griefy days, I would have rebelled and told anyone that the act of converting ashes into a paperweight was such a callous thing to do. Some days, grief felt as heavy as this glass orb, and I just needed to set it down and walk away for a minute.
But now? I take great comfort in the fact that it illuminates the room where it lives at home and has accompanied me on many a road trip. Believe me, it only took ONE time of carting a whole urn on a trip before realizing that this orb made much better sense. 😆
As for the paperweight concept, I’m pretty sure my son would’ve laughed to know he has actually been used as one. Last year, I wallpapered my basement to spruce things up and you’d better believe I used him as literal wallpaper weight as I cut the strips.
I can already hear Past Me gasping at that sentence, clutching pearls I don’t even own. But the truth is, I love that he’s here, quietly doing a job and being part of the everyday rhythm of my home.
Sometimes it helps to let the people we’ve lost live in the mundane moments.
I could sit here and write so many more stories about the weird and wonderful things I’ve explored in the wake of significant loss.
While we wait for those stories to unfold, what are some creative ways you’ve discovered to commemorate lost loved ones?
As someone with some specific insight and knowledge, I can confidently say that no, your loved ones would NOT be upset about this. 😉
Also, this is a beautiful idea and one I hadn’t considered yet! You always hear about trees and more recently, diamonds, but I truly love this. Thank you for sharing. 🖤
This is beautiful, and I so admire your courage in writing it and sharing your journey. Who knows what might be a touchstone for someone else, and this is, to me, a truly beautiful one.