Dads Ashes

 A early start for us today for we had to drive over to Leicester to pick up Mum and the box where we now keep my Dad, upstairs in his room, where the router glows blue and dust sits thick on the surfaces. Mrs T said the house smelt really musty when we arrived but as I had a terrible night of sneezing and disturbed sleep my nose wasn’t working, again, damn sinuses, damn pollen, allergens, invisible stuff which makes me suffer and my nose stream like a grim puddle in a tractor track in the gateway of a soaking wet field. Thats how its been for some time now on and off. So forgive me if I wasn’t so jovial this morning as we made our way over to Mums pad.

We were putting Dads ashes in a hole at the Crem in the garden of remembrance, about a year and 3 months since he died. Where did that go? Mum gave me a prayer to read out, which if it makes her happy and offers some closure then I’m more than happy to do. My son kind of volunteered, kind of was suggested that he might want to read a poem given to him by the woman running the show. We stood next to the hole, as an Asian funeral was taking place behind us, beautiful Indian music drifted in the breezy air just quiet enough for Mum not to hear.

I got to say the Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust thing dressed in a wooly hat and an over coat which belonged to Dad. It was a nice thing to do, I spoke briefly to Dad telling him how my family was doing, and Mum looked on, we tossed petals into the small hole, we threw in a rose and scattered some soil on to the small but heavy casket in the hole, i’m sure some of us around the hole thought some prayers and some of us thought fine thoughts about Dad, and then it was done. A short gathering, loosely planned, and informal, without knowing how it should end, which it did with us walking back up to the cars arm in arm, a familiar site inherent at the Crematorium I should imagine. The headstone would be fitted in a week or so when the ground settles, when this happens I’ll take a day off and come and see Mum at this placid place, we’ll sit on the bench and see if we can scrounge a coffee from the staff at the cream while we look out over the fields and can see the chimneys of Dads childhood home, which we only noticed purely by chance as the leaves were off the trees. Full Circle.

Mum asked if we did the right thing; having never done it before I couldn’t say, but it felt pretty good, and now it gives Mum a place to come, to think, rather than avoiding Dads room at the top of the house. 



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