Tags
choose joy, death, death ritual, dementia, finding the hope, looking for the light, miracles, overcoming obstacles, scattering ashes, unexpected gifts
I just got back from a 10 day trip to New England and back with my mom and S. As part of our trip, Mom and I decided that we were going to scatter some of my dad’s ashes in the same waters that we had scattered his parents in. My aunt and uncle and cousin (and her family) all live in Hyannis Port, MA just down the street from the pier, so we asked them to join us.
They didn’t currently have any boats in the water, so we just headed down to the end of the pier with our little baggie o’ Dad. My aunt had very sweetly picked up some roses so that we could sprinkle petals, too, and I love that she chose red – vibrant and cheerful like my dad had been.
We said a few words about who he had been, and I was blown away by something my uncle said. He said that, growing up, he had viewed the world as kind of a hostile place, and he’d battled through it accordingly. He said that it wasn’t until a few years ago that he’d realized what an act of courage it had been for my dad to remain so kind and loving. It was an excellent reminder to me that I want to be brave like that; to forgive the world for its cruelties and look for the joy and hope where it can be found. There’s so much beauty calling to us if we just pay attention. The trail of ashes and flowers washing away from us was so appropriate: life’s most painful and beautiful experiences mixing and mingling and leading us forward.
After we scattered some ashes at the pier, we walked down to the breakwater where we used to hide pennies when I was a kid. My mom and dad and I would walk as far down as we could manage over the haphazardly strewn rocks to hide the pennies, and when we’d return the next year, we’d hunt for the ones we’d left the year before in the unlikely event that they hadn’t been washed away by storms. And then we’d leave some more pennies in hopes that we’d either find them next year or give an unexpected surprise to fellow beach goers.
We sprinkled a few more ashes there, and hid a few more pennies, and, again, it reminded me to look for the unexpected joys hiding in plain sight.
Life will throw all kinds of obstacles our way. It’s our job to scramble over them and hunt for the little miracles tucked away, then leave some reminders for the people that follow behind us.
Dad, I wish you were still here so I could tell you that I’m paying attention and choosing to look for the light. #penniesfornick
Love this, what a beautiful way to honor your father’s memory. A good message for all of us to take to heart.
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Scattering Hannah’s ashes was one of the most healing things I have ever done. Looks like this may have been healing for you. I hope it was. Obviously can’t heal that wound completely.
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It was, in many ways. Still have 1 more place we’re going to scatter them, and then we’ll inter the rest under a bench in a cemetery. The cemetery one terrifies me and I’m not quite sure how I’ll make it through. But I will. Don’t have a choice. Where did you scatter Hannah’s? I feel like you may have written about it, but I can’t remember off the top of my head…
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It was in the Sound at our favorite park. 1/2. The other halves are being sent to her mom and sister.
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Emily, my folks retired on a boat on the Mississippi River. They so loved being on the river for many years before they had to give it up and move back on land. In her will, my mother requested to have her ashes scattered in a lovely little cove on the Mississippi River not far from their home dock at Two Rivers Marina, about 25 miles south of Mark Twain’s Hannibal, MO. I spent many wonderful weekends and vacation time with them there. Returning the last time for a boat ride to my mother’s favorite quiet spot on the river was quite a bittersweet, but beautiful and moving experience. These photos remind me. Thanks for sharing.
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I think it’s a hard, but ultimately healing ritual.
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