Today was the day.
It made the most sense. My sister was in town from the Bay Area; it was an easy day for my brother to come into Columbia; and, well, it just made sense, being a holiday, a holy day and all.
Earlier today, in an incredibly casual, yet equally sincere, ceremony (of sorts), my siblings and I–along with my mother–took a beautiful walk to a nearby pond where the three of us siblings had played as children. There we did our quiet goodbyes to our father and spooned his cremated ashes into the pond.
The location was an easy selection. My father had no preference where his ashes were laid, and my sister and I shared the same vision of spreading his ashes at the pond we all called The Polluted Pond when we were kids.
This pond (it’s official name is Patriot Pond) was a center point in our Thunder Hill area childhood. We passed it every day on our way to elementary school. We passed it as we walked or rode our bikes to the neighborhood pool. And it was also a site of adventure: illicit, scary jumps into it off the fishing dock, taking a small sailboat (minus the sail) and boating in it, and endless explorations of the fish and wildlife along its edges.
The pond was also, in reality, a stormwater management pond, and my father, being a land developer for the past 40 years, was responsible for installing more than one storm water management pond in his years.
Not much more to say about it, other than I’m glad it was a lovely day, I like that this special day (to us) fell on Thanksgiving and a day of gratitude and thanks-giving, and I like that his ashes aren’t stationary to one place but can move, spread, travel across Columbia, the nation, the world …
Xoxoxox and Happy Thanksgiving!
