Good Grief 230

I wanted to take a photo of this before I returned it to my friend.
It's a beautiful pot (I think it might have been an old honey pot originally) that my friend had offered as a possible urn for mum's ashes. There's a long tedious story to all of this but suffice to say I just wanted to capture it. I loved it's textures, the shape, the light reflected, the eye-like image. And just everything that accompanied it - the kindness of the offer to use it to hold mum's ashes for the service and then for the scattering, the chance to talk through all the mounting tension that was accompanying the build up to mum's service, the exasperation of everything that I had sought out not being good enough for my sister who's levels of anxiety were busily rising through the ceiling. It had become laughable if it hadn't felt so grim at the time. 
And then, of course, I took photos of it to send to my sister to see if it met with approval. No surprises here. It got the thumbs down. At that point I decided to give up and leave it to her. There was nothing I was going to do that was going to make any difference.
Anyway, all done now.
Just wanted this blip to mark something of the absurdity of it all, the sadness of it all, the insightful eye that sees the uneasy dynamics and unspoken fractures, and just the sheer beauty and quiet equanimity of this object, this container, this carrier, this eye, that watched it all unfold and which kept me company through it all for a few days.