Urn Selection.

I don't know how to start a letter like this, and yet I grab the paper and organize my thoughts.

I write "Choice of an Urn" and immediately wonder who I'm writing about, as if something inside me is demanding an answer and won't be quiet.

I'm writing about you, who until yesterday I could hear your breathing next to me, and now I'm trying to figure out how to continue.

I don't write to send it, but to give voice to what I feel and not let it suffocate me.

I think of you and let the images come as they will.

I don't remember you as I saw you at the end, but I remember you as I lived with you and that's how I keep you alive inside me.

In small moments I find you again, in phrases you said without a second thought and in things that I used to ignore but now I hold tightly.

Acceptance

Today I did something I never expected and, no matter how much I thought about it, I didn't do it simply.

I chose an urn and immediately felt the weight of that choice.

I'm speaking to you openly because I didn't know what to do and I was looking for a way to get closer to you again.

I went in, looked and compared, while trying to see the process simply, as if I could control it.

But it wasn't simple, because I didn't choose an object and I figured it out very quickly.

I was deciding where to keep you and that thought stopped me and changed me.

I looked at many options and weighed them one by one, giving each thought time to settle.

They all seemed right and beautiful in their own way, but none of them really touched me.

I stopped searching and let myself feel.

I didn't chase the impressive and I didn't seek the special, but I stood in front of something that I saw as a work of art.

And there I felt it clearly, without explaining it.

I didn't think, I felt, and that's what got to me.

I felt a calm spreading within me, as if everything I couldn't sort out was falling into place.

And then I realized something I hadn't realized before.

The material doesn't matter, the shape doesn't matter, and the price doesn't matter, no matter how hard you try to put them in order.

It's what I feel when I hold it that counts, if it gives me value and if he honors you in the way you deserve.

Assurance

And I want to tell you something else, because this is what keeps me going.

I didn't put you somewhere, but I kept you close to me in the way I can and can bear.

I hear many people say that time helps and I try to believe it.

I don't know if they're right, but I keep moving forward.

But I know that I feel you next to me, in unsuspected moments, without words and without explanations.

If this is memory, then it stays and sustains me.

I can't find an end to this letter, because what I feel doesn't end easily.

I just want you to know something that doesn't change.

No matter what changes around me, I remember you and keep you inside me.

And that doesn't change.

🔻

If you are reading this text and going through this process, I want to speak to you humanly and simply.

Don't rush into choosing an urn and give yourself time to figure out what you need.

Don't pressure yourself and listen to what you feel, because that's how you will find the answer.

In the end, you connect with the urn and give it meaning.

And this connection leads you, even when everything seems difficult.

topurns.com

🔻

Because in the end, you are connected to the urn.

topurns.com

«Mom… how do you choose an urn?;»

from: topurns.com

— Mom…
— Yes?;
— How do you choose an urn?;

(silence)

— I don't know if there's a right answer to this...
— Me neither.

-Mom? Did you look on the internet?;

– Yes

— And?;
— I didn't distinguish any. They looked the same to me.

— I thought you just pick one and that's it.
— I thought so too.

— But that's not true, is it?;
— No…

— What confused you the most?;
— I don't know what I consider "right.".

— Is there a right one?;
— I don't think so…

— Do you want something simple?;
— Maybe…
— Or something more special?;
— I don't know… it depends.

— From what?;
— From how I remember him.

— I want something calm, mom.
— Yes… me too.

— I don't want anything unpleasant.
— Me neither.

(pause)

— Did you see the ceramics?;
— Yes… I saw them.
— I liked them.

— Why?;
— I don't know… I felt something.

— What did you feel?;
— I felt an earthly calm.

— Like they're just standing there?;
— Yes… exactly.

(pause)

— Can I tell you something?;
— Tell me.

— I think you'll understand when you find her.
— So?;

— You won't think about it too much.
— Will it come naturally to me?;
— Yes.

(pause)

— Mom…
— Yes?;

— Can we keep her here?;
— At home?;
— Yes, mom…

(a little silence)

— If that makes you feel closer… I want it too.

Some choices are not made with instructions.

They are not explained.

They happen within a conversation.
In a silence.
In a moment when something "clicks".

And then you know.

What does a child feel when they lose a parent?

Does he understand the loss?;

A child does not perceive death like an adult. At young ages, it is difficult to understand that the absence is permanent.

Waiting for the parent's return, She asks when she will see him again and imagines he left for a while.. In this way he protects himself from a pain that he cannot yet bear.

The silence that says more

Why doesn't the child express himself?;

The child does not always express strong emotions. He continues playing, appears calm, or withdraws.

With this attitude he tries to deal with the loss. He doesn't avoid the pain; he just hasn't found a way to express it yet. He keeps what he feels inside until he can express it.

The fear that arises after loss

How does the sense of security change?;

The child loses a sense of stability when they lose a parent. They don't just lose a person; they lose the foundation that gives them security.

He is afraid. He wonders if he will lose the other parent, if he will remain safe, and if he can trust the world around him. Even when he does not express these thoughts, he carries them inside and changes his behavior.

Anger as an expression of pain

Why is the child reacting strongly?;

The child expresses his pain through anger. He reacts, shouts, moves away or questions those around him.

He's not trying to provoke. He's trying to endure. Anger acts as an outlet for the tension he can't handle otherwise. Behind every reaction lies deep sadness.

The guilt that weighs silently

Can the child feel responsible?;

The child often associates the loss with himself. He believes that he did something wrong or that he could have prevented what happened.

In this way, he tries to explain something he doesn't understand. For this, he needs to hear clearly and repeatedly that he bears no responsibility.

The sadness that comes and goes

Why does his mood change so quickly?;

The child does not remain in sadness all the time. He goes from playing to crying and back again.

With this alternation, he protects himself. He doesn't forget the loss; he simply regulates the intensity of the pain so that he can manage it.

Absence in everyday moments

When does the loss become more intense?;

The child feels the absence most intensely in the simple moments of everyday life. He wants to talk and can't find the parent. He wants to share a joy and can't.

In these moments, he understands loss again. He feels the emptiness and pain more intensely.

How can we support a grieving child?

What does he really need?;

The child needs presence, honesty and acceptance. He needs an adult who listens to him without pressuring him and gives him space to express what he feels.

The adult tells the truth in simple words, answers questions, and remains steadfast by his side. At the same time, he accepts every emotion without correcting or diminishing it.

In this way, the child feels safe. Within this safety, he gradually finds his own way to process the loss.

You don't have to go through this alone.

You can talk.
Ask.
Take your time.

Because in the end,

It's how you keep a person close to you.