Last week, after I had learned the devastating news about Sora's ashes, our vet ran into Dave on the street and told him to tell me to stop by.
They told him again the next day when I couldn't go in.
I tried going on the third day, but couldn't bring myself to see them. Not because I was angry with them about the miscommunication, but because I couldn't bear to see the last people who saw Sora.
I texted her and told her I wasn't ready to come in because I was so upset.
A flurry of text messages came in. Before I could read them all, my vet was calling me. "Jen," she said. "I need to talk to you about Sora." She went on to tell me that she called the cremation company to ask if there was any way for us to still recuperate Sora's ashes. It had been three weeks by that point.
What she told me next, I still have trouble believing.
By some sort of magic or miracle or apology from the universe, the machine had broken and they had to pause the cremations. Sora was STILL there, untouched, waiting to come back to us.
I couldn't process what she had just told me. How could it be that three weeks had passed and Sora was still intact? My body shook and tears rained from my eyes at the thought that we'd have her back with us, where she belongs.
I didn't fully believe it until today, when I walked home with her tucked in a ceramic pot cradled in my arms.