My understanding of grief before my mother died was very shallow. I sat in the garage, alone, sobbing from a smell I had never once considered before. It was a strange experience, holding someone’s teeth in my hands. Once, while in the garage alone, I opened the blue plastic container with my mother’s teeth in them. I learned that I preferred to grieve privately. Grieving in some ways, is a mirror or proxy of one’s personality. I’ve learned so much about grief and myself since my mother’s death. She must have had her main dentures in her mouth when she was cremated so this must have been an old pair or a spare. Since this task fell onto me and not my sister, I got first dibs on everything. When she died, there was the usual cleaning out of her things, deciding what to toss and what to keep.
I also remember my mother and her mouth sucked in and her funny talking when her teeth were soaking.
I have many memories of my mother’s teeth fizzing in a cup in the bathroom.
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