Sunday, December 12, 2010
The Scattering Again
You probably already know this but I thought I'd let you know anyway. We scattered your ashes today,as close to the place where we did the same to Dad's back in 2004. The river was a bit higher and running quicker than it was back then so your journey, wherever that may be will be quicker than Dad's was. Remember how amidst the tears we laughed back then when you said that there was some irony in the fact we were scattering Dad's ashes in the river when he couldn't swim. He would have laughed at that too and we did chuckle about it again today.
Unlike back then there were no ducks around. Remember they came in and scooped up some of Dad's ashes as they floated on the water, eventually scattering them a bit further than we intended I guess.
You would have been proud of Deb, she read a couple of poems for you and said a small service around how we eventually return to the elements from which we sprang - from fire, earth, water and air. I was glad that the air didn't spring up and blow part of you up my nose because I'm still suffering a bit from hay fever and it wasn't something I needed today.
Andrew and Gerry were there as well as Chase, Shez and Cal, Raels was home ill in bed and sends her apologies and the other Grandkids found it a bit hard to face, like they did with Dad. Maybe they don't fully understand how this ancient ceremony is yet another step along the way of recovery for grief. But I know you'll understand. I know you will prefer them to remember your laugh and your raised eyebrow when you disapproved of something than a container of mortal remains.
Speaking of which, I carried them down from Karen's house and I have to say that you weighed a fair bit more than Dad. But you'll know that too, because he did have a touch of the Mahatma Ghandi's about him in the last few years, "Fine as a sunny day" I remember him saying on more than one occasion.
We did have to keep watch because like the day we did Dad's there were a few people around and whilst Deb was speaking Andrew, Gerry and I were keeping a lookout for anyone who may have happened along. I remembered the time you told us about you and Uncle Phil and Aunty Nancy taking your cousin Lila's ashes out to the cemetery and shoving them down a crack in the grave of her Mum Aunty Phyllis and Dad Uncle Perc. You told us you were worried that someone would see and think you might be defacing the grave, but we all had a great laugh everytime you told the story.
Deb brought some yellow roses from her garden and each of us placed one on the river to follow you down. As the last one was placed on and the rain started to fall the sun came out giving that sense of renewal that comes with a new day. A different day maybe, but a new one, and despite the sorrow, a reminder that there will still be many good things to come.
I hope you finished the book that we sent with you. You were adamant that it had to go on the journey because you always finished any books you started even if you didn't like them. And I hope you managed to magic that toy horse into one that carried you across the fields of heaven like you said it would.
I have so much to thank you for, we all do and I'll leave that to some future posts, but I do want to say a couple of things here. Firstly, I remember how proud you were of Luke when he was presented as your first Grandchild. You were actually the same age then as I am now and that's a bit of a scarey thought because I thought you and Dad were kinda old back then. Now I know differently of course. And then you were given another 10 grandkids within the next ten years and everyone knew how much you loved them.
I also want you to know that Raels really appreciated the last things you said to her - that you loved her and that you told her to look after me. She will and I think you know that. Thanks for finally accepting her, I know it wasn't an easy thing for you to do. But we both are really grateful for that and Raels for being able to come to know you over the past couple of years.
Did I tell you that a few months after Dad died he visited me one night. I felt him sit on the end of my bed just like he did so many times when I was a boy and he'd come home from work and come down and say goodnight. We couldn't talk but just let him know that I'm OK and I love him deeply.
I still feel you around Mum. I know that wherever and whatever Heaven is, that you'll watch over all of us no matter how long you have to. I can hear you telling Dad and Nana and Grandad and the others there with you now how I "turned around and said". And I know that when you disapprove of something I do, and there probably will be things you don't like before we meet again, that your eyebrow will rise and the cheeks will puff out and you'll let me know exactly what you think. Just like you always have.
So Farewell for now Mum. I will always love you.