The Send-Off

Recently I saw the King Tut exhibition at the de Young Museum. Case after case contained wondrous artifacts that kept the Boy King company on his journey to the after life: a whimsical child’s chair; a model boat fashioned from papyrus; clay vessels for his favorite food and wine; an inlaid board game to while away the eternal hours. I imagined Tut’s grieving courtiers and family members busying themselves by accumulating the little treasures of everyday life. What did he prefer to eat? Remember how he crowed triumphantly every time he won this game! Don’t forget his boat, complete with oarsmen to help him cross over! This little clay animal will remind him of the pets and people who still love him when he is lonely in his journey to the afterlife.

Soon after my visit with King Tut, I found myself in the bulk food aisle, scooping powdered corn chowder and dried organic mango into plastic bags and scanning the shelves for my daughter’s favorite chai tea. Once home, I placed these delicacies in the box next to the toothpaste, Advil, and family photos I have been stockpiling for her send-off. Who knows if they have provisions in the world beyond known as college? My daughter needs to be prepared for the new life that awaits her far from home. I added Scrabble to her cache so, when she is homesick, she can conjure up nights of laughter with those who love and miss her. For good measure, I tucked in her old stuffed dog, whose soft pink plush she long ago caressed into a colorless, shapeless bundle. The mundane accoutrements of home will provide succor for the uncharted passage ahead.

We moderns marvel at the golden funeral masks and ornately painted sarcophagi unearthed from the royal tombs. Yet it is the relics of domesticity used in the ritual of farewell that captivate us. Several millennia span the time between Ancient Egypt and today. But the impulse is timeless to send along a bit of home, a bit of ourselves, in the hard task of saying goodbye