Logan just sits there

Logan just sits there in his stupid tupperware bowl, in that stupid box. Sitting, nonchalantly, on the top of my armoire. Like one more piece of clutter. One more "thing" I don't know what to do with, or where to put. He just sits there. It makes me sad. I was in such a hurry to get him here with me. I fight the weird "crazy lady" urges to take the box down and caress it, or carry it around with me. I fight the weird "crazy lady" urges to put my hand in the bowl so that I can touch my son once again. And I feel weird just letting him sit there, like a discarded item, like the box is forgotten. It's not. I see it several times a day. Sometimes I go look at it on purpose. But I don't touch it. I don't take it down. I don't trust myself. I don't want to be a crazy lady. I think holding him, burnt to nothing but dust, would be too much for my feeble mind to handle. I think it would literally make me insane. I think it would push me over the edge of reason. I just can't bring myself to do anything with his remains. I don't want to look at urns. I don't want to have to decide. I don't want to have to ask questions, make plans...relive. I think I would like him in a nice urn, sewn inside of a teddy bear. Actually, I prefer a fish. I call my daughter Muffin, she is my little bird. I always pictured my son as a fish. A cartoon like fish, soft blue and green with big squishy cheeks. Maybe large polka dots. It seems irreverent. And an old teddy bear, made special for Logan seems more appropriate. But then what? Where do I put the Bear? In my closet, so that my daughter doesn't try to play with it? I've thought about a Niche. I've thought about burying him with a grandparent. I've thought about burying him at the base of his new tree, once it's planted. But to be honest, I just don't think I can let him leave again. I think that perhaps if he was in a bear, I could hold the bear...and not be a freak. But I still can't work up enough umph, enough courage, enough strength to get an urn. So, he sits...in his stupid bowl, in his stupid box on top of my stupid armoire...and I see him every day.