Easter took on a special meaning for me this year as we said goodbye to my brother. Today we carried some of his ashes with us on our trip back to Utah. Sometime in the next year or so, we're going to take them to Kenya because that is where his heart was.
Cremation is not a tradition here in Utah, but it is the only tradition I have known in my family.
My Grandpa Stuart died when I was six, and his ashes were buried in a Chicago cemetery. I held my mom's hand during the burial and asked her how Grandpa fit in the little box. I don't remember her answer, but I do remember the way she stiffened up, concerned that whatever she said might scar me. I don't think it did.
My Grandpa Charlie died when I was in college. He wanted his ashes scattered on Long Island Sound, where he spent some of his happiest times sailing. This picture is of the day we did that for him. (Bottom to top: my sister Maryann, my sister Linda, my cousin Sandy, me in the gray sweater, my mom hidden behind me, my brother Robbie in the tan pants turned away from the camera, not sure who's at the bow).
My Grammie died in 1997, and her ashes were buried in the garden of her Presbyterian church. Last weekend after my cousin's wedding, my sisters and I left a blue hydrangea from the reception on Grammie's grave marker. We told her what a beautiful celebration it had been, that we missed her being there, and that she'd have approved of the man our cousin married.
My Grandma Jan died just weeks before September 11, 2001. In retrospect I was grateful she did not live to see that day. One of the things I loved most about her was her wanderlust, so it seems appropriate that her ashes went three different directions: to Lake Michigan near her home, to Lake Geneva where we had such happy summers together, and to rest beside my Grandpa Stuart in the Chicago cemetery.
In case you are wondering, airport security did take special note. The ashes had to come out of Roger's carry-on and go through the scanner separately. The TSA agents were very kind.
3 comments:
Thanks for sharing that. My brother and I scattered my mom's ashes last Oct up near lake Tahoe. On the drive up there, he says, "You know, Robin, this is illegal." GREAT! but we agreed, mom would totally approve of our ending her days here by breaking the law! We dropped her ashes in a stream he knew of, and as we drove away he said, "Dang, I can't fish HERE any more!!"
When my sisters and I went to Hawaii we took Roger's ashes with us - a friend who had died of AIDS and had always dreamed of going to Hawaii. When we would come to a spectacular scenic vista, we would leave a bit or Roger there . . .
When I see that picture I imagine a very different world from the one I know. It looks kind of Kennedys like. Do you ever feel out of place in Utah?
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