A couple of days ago I, my husband, my three sisters and brothers-in-law scattered my parents’ ashes into the sea. The day had been a long time coming. My father has been dead for nine years and my mother for three. Their ashes had been residing in a cabinet in my kitchen all that time. Why so long? We kept dad’s ashes waiting until my mother passed away, and she took a lot longer than any of us expected. Then, we girls had trouble reaching a mutually acceptable decision. We all had different opinions on where and how, and each of us felt very strongly about our viewpoint. We wanted to find a solution with which we could all be comfortable. Word to the wise: don’t just decide whether you want to be buried or cremated, also choose where you want your remains placed and tell your children in plenty of time!
We finally settled on a place which had historical significance for my mother’s family. It was near the Port Adelaide wharfs, in the historical part of the town. My maternal grandfather, great grandfather and great, great grandfather had all worked there on the docks, and the family had lived in the area. We did it on the day that would have been their 70th wedding anniversary. It was also the day on which our nation commemorates the men and women who have served their country in the armed forces and, in particular, those who have made the ultimate sacrifice. The motto for this day is “lest we forget”.
It was a sun-kissed day; the light glinted on the water; a pod of dolphins swam past; a pelican stood watch and it seemed as if the universe was singing its approval of what we were doing. We gave thanks for parents who loved each other and stood by each other regardless of what life threw at them and who loved us in the same way. Over the lunch table (in a hotel built in 1878 right near the docks) we shared memories, laughed together, passed photos around and talked and ate and talked… All in all, it was a very good day.
Before we did the scattering we stood on the sand, in a circle, with the ashes in the middle. It seemed strange to me that my parents’ were now reduced to such small containers. My parents were big people, with strong personalities. It didn’t seem right that all that life, was now reduced to a couple of plastic boxes. But, their memories are strong within us and their stories are now part of our family’s story. Being in that place, redolent with our state’s history and my family’s history, in particular, I had a strong sense of being another chapter in a grand narrative. The story goes on.
I hope and pray that my part of the story is worth reading and I want it to end well. It would be lovely to think that my grandchildren will one day tell their children, “I remember Granny Noble really well. She was an interesting old bird. She made us laugh, she read to us, she slipped us lollies when Mum wasn’t looking and she loved us to bits.” That’d be cool.
Note to self: start slipping lollies to the kids when their mother isn’t looking…because I don’t do it now. Honestly, dear daughter, I don’t. Well, not often.
Sounds like a very special day Wendy!so glad the universe approved too! treasure your sisters and family! Love Meggie xxxx
Thanks, Meg, it was! We should all treasure our families and make sure we let them know that while we still have them with us.
I think your parents would have been proud of their children, Wendy. Despite taking time, you all eventually agreed and honoured your parents. Well done.
Cheers, Michael. I certainly hope so. 🙂
Some families can handle death and others can’t. Visitors to my extended family (a clan really) were often disturbed about the open discussion of this. Yet we used to see other families dissolve into uncertainy and conflict because no arrangements were understood.
My grandparents had 8 children. Towards their end they made sure each child and grandchild had made a choice of one item of memorabilia. This was listed and agreed upon well before they died. I have an old tin box with a view of palm trees on it.
Most people seem to live their life based on the idea that they will always live their life and never leave it. That kind of self deception is hard on everyone else around.
In Western society, death is now the great taboo. The media bombards us with the lie: “You, too, can beat old age. You can prevent wrinkles. You can get rid of the grey. You can stay young (or at least, looking young) just as long as you use this cream, eat this way, pop these pills, visit this plastic surgeon…” As if growing old is something disgraceful, rather than honourable. I agree, Ken: that kind of self-deception does a great deal of harm. Sounds like your family has the right idea. Good on you!
Very nice Wendy,it has given me food for thought,there is 6 children in my family and I have no idea what my parents would want when they are no longer here.Time for a discussion I think.xxx
People don’t like talking about these things. They think it’s “morbid” and “there’s plenty of time”. Having been on this journey with my sisters, and being the one who had the ashes sitting in my cupboard all those years, I reckon it’s not morbid, it’s just practical. And, who knows how long any of us have? We could be in a car crash tomorrow! Be prepared, I say. 🙂