Grief / Love life / Moan

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust – in my vagina

Finding new processes which make life easier, save time, help us relax or enhance an experience can only be a good thing, right? We live in a demanding, exhausting world which feels a bit soulless at times. I am pro-innovation.

Now, I’m not so sure as to whether all innovation is good because, yesterday, I was made aware of a new item which a lovely Dutch man, Mark Sturkenboom, has altruistically invented especially for people like me – widows. As a lesbian widow who hasn’t had sex in two months, my ears prick up at the word “dildo” so I clicked the link on my Twitter feed (@eerilycheerily) to read more. What can this curious unique invention be and why is it getting so much news coverage?
It’s a dildo that I can shove my dead wife’s ashes in and then shove up my vajayjay. It’s disgusting. There’s no sugar coating it, and I shit you not – this is a real thing. Have a read about it here

I represent 99% of my young widowed community when I exclaim “what the holy fuck?”. Mr Sturkenboom, shame on you. I hope you read this. You may have nice intentions but the result of your special magic wand is that you’ve pissed off a lot of us and/or made us laugh hysterically. I guess the laughing bit is a positive thing when we spend a heck a lot of the time sobbing and shouting into thin air at our dead spouses. However, you’ve just alienated your entire target market by disgusting us and showing yourself to be yet another insensitive person who just doesn’t “get it”. You’ve gone too far.
You’ve said:

I read an article about widows, taboos and sex and intimacy and then I thought to myself, ‘can I combine these themes and make an object that is about love and missing and intimacy?'”

Then you also helped a wee old widow carry her shopping. That’s really not sufficient market research now, is it?

Let’s just imagine for one second that I’m interested in your product. I have safety worries. Is this dildo suitable for anal play? My wife never liked that but now that she’s dead, pft, doesn’t matter. Are you able to reassure us that the device will not break and leave our orifices resembling chimneys? How does an accident and emergency doctor even treat that? Might it result in thrush? Can I wash it in the dishwasher along with my other sex toys? Does it come with a lifetime guarantee? Is there space for my ashes too so that when I die, I can be with my wife? Do you do a double-ended version of the dildo so that should I get with another lesbian widow, she can involve her late spouse in our sex life too? I hope your dildo comes with a little booklet of instructions and warnings, rather like Tampax does.

On the plus side, the box for the dildo can lock, so no one else can sleep with my wife’s ashes. Phew. That’s a big concern of mine. Thank you for this feature.

The fact is, making myself orgasm with my wife’s ashes is never going to fulfil me or comfort me. I respect her, and sticking her cremains up me with a squirt of lubricant ain’t gonna bring her back to life. THAT’s what I want. An alive wife.

Whether you meant it or not, you are mocking me and my fellow widows. Seeing the internet laugh at this is another reminder of the fact that nobody understands us truly. After having our souls ripped apart by losing our loves, losing family and friends in the process, and having our lives turned upside down, knobends like you who help to make a joke out of our sexual cravings and dead spouses, probably unintentionally, do not help. What has happened to us is nothing but tragic. Part of me wants to slap you, but a year’s worth of £135 a session therapy (thank you health insurance company) means I know that this will not help. Instead, I turn to my sardonic tongue and hope this find you via the interweb.

For the rest of you who have found me through referral and not yet perused my writings (do check me out at, let me give you a quick description of me. I live in the UK, hence I swear like a trooper, and I’m a bit mental. I’m a high functioning alcoholic lesbian in my twenties and I’ve got a dead wife. She killed herself. I very nearly threw myself over the railings at Niagara Falls in my darkest days of grief. I also contemplated becoming a nun, living a simple life of silence and prayer, even though I’m not Catholic. I miss my wife more than words can say and she is the first thing I think of in the morning and the last thing at night. I will never “get over” this. I will move forward, but not move on.

However, I’ve had more sexual partners since my wife died than ever before. We’re not talking double digits (yet?) but I use the words “lesbian” and “sex” so frequently on my blog that my work’s IT security filter now flags it as pornographic and blocks access. So, Mr Sturkenboom, you are right about one thing and drawing attention to it – these bizarre creatures called widows do miss sex and are happy to talk about it.

But this is not what we want recognition for. Joy has re-entered our lives and many of us, with time, have found ourselves living again albeit with a massive hole in our hearts. We’ve had to re-build, change our expectations, switch jobs, re-decorate our homes, make new friends, figure out how to unblock the loo, balance the books, travel alone, plaster smiles on our faces at family gatherings. We are fucking superwomen. Please respect us for that, acknowledge it, don’t create something that gets the internet going mental and laughing.

I loved my wife. I really, really, really loved her. I still love her and I always will.  She was fabulous, quirky, clever, gorgeous, had an amazing sense of humour, but was fucked up. But even she would think your invention is a step too far.

There is good news for you though, Mr Sturkenboom. A silver lining – much like the satin inside my wife’s coffin. Something that isn’t well documented or known outside the widowed community is that a spouse dying often wrecks relationships with in-laws. We fight over belongings, houses, dogs, salt and pepper mills and are sometimes completely cut off. It gets nasty. We argue over ashes too. I think there are a few of my peers who’d be happy to purchase your dildo, put some ashes inside, gift wrap it and send to their in-laws with a little card saying, “go fuck yourselves.” So, thank you for that.

Where can we buy them?


10 thoughts on “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust – in my vagina

  1. Pingback: Ashes to ashes, dust to dust – where is my wife? | Eerily Cheerily

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