8 ounces.

Today, I'm standing in line at the USPS, preparing to ship Joshua's ashes to his dad. I spent two hours this morning deciding which box to send, and which box to keep. They packaged him in two boxes as a courtesy. I weighed them. One was 8 ounces heavier than the other. I looked at them. They looked the same. I touched them. They felt the same. I talked to them. Neither said a word. So, I got in line with both boxes, and sitting on the counter was a penny (thanks dad). I picked up the penny and started to cry, in line, during lunch hour, at the post office. There was no way to make the right decision. No matter what I did, which box I chose, half will be here, and half will be there. I don't know why this bothers me so much, but it does. When it hits, reality hits hard. 8 ounces difference. Joshua would laugh at my dilemma. So, in the end, I flipped the coin. Box "2 of 2" stays with me. And box "1 of 2" is on its way to Michigan. Decision made. No looking back now.