Right before the first round of Rows showed up for the home improvement project, there was a flurry of activity at my house... I had the electrician here to fix the garage door because it wasn't staying closed - as soon as it would touch the ground, it would open back up (the sensor was off kilter). I had the heating guy here because the heat would only work sporadically (the ignitor needed replaced on the furnace). Then I had the ADT guy here to replace the contact on the sliding glass doors from my bedroom which was preventing me from arming the system.
After the first round of home improvements were done and everyone left, I noticed a ziploc bag of spackling compound on the dresser in my bedroom, and since my brother had patched some little holes made in the ceiling from when he insulated the attic, I thought maybe it was his. I brought it with me when I went to his house to see if it belonged to him, but he said it wasn't his.
During one of the trips to Home Depot with Greg, we got on the topic of Matt's ashes and how he brings them with him everywhere he goes to spread them in the places Matt would want to be. I had given Matt's parents all of his ashes right before I moved because I didn't want them packed by the movers, and I didn't want to carry them with me on the plane across the country. Ginny distributed some to all of his brothers, and was going to bring some for me when she came out this last time. When Greg was telling me about what he was doing with them, it reminded me that Ginny didn't give me ashes while she was out.
Then it hit me...
I said with a gulp, "Greg, look under your feet." He was sitting in the passenger seat of my van.
"Do you see a bag there?"
He pulled out the ziploc bag that I had been driving around with for almost two weeks and looked at it.
It wasn't spackling compound - it was Matt! Thank God I didn't try patching any holes with him.
Apparently I had been bringing Matt with me everywhere I went, too, and didn't even know it. I guess it's better than having him stuffed under the bed like he was from the time I picked him up from the funeral home until right before I moved, but oh my goodness - I couldn't believe it. We actually got a good laugh out of that one! Black humor at its best, I suppose. (You really have to have a sense of humor about this stuff...)
I had to call his mom and tell her the story because I knew she'd get a laugh out of it (which she did), and if Matt was there, I know he would have, too!