Reflection on the Ashes
Been thinking about ashes for awhile now, especially as the year ends, and I reflect upon those who are no longer physically with us. It's also anniversary time for deaths, which I try not to think about. I prefer to remember birth dates which seem to be embedded in my head, but those loss dates for some people just stick like they're held with Gorilla Glue.
Of course, we have a stash of ash, like folks do today. Used to be you went to a cemetery to pay your respects, leave love and flowers. Now, we have little bottles in our homes that carry the remains of our loved ones. It probably started for some of us with our pets.
We have our Bama girl. She's in a tin, like the kind you used to put recipes in. You know, you'd write them out, or yank 'em out of magazines. Now we use Pinterest or leave them in our email. Once in a while I print one out, and put it in my nearly antique BH&G cookbook that was my Mom's. Bama floats around the house. Sometimes the tin is on the hutch, other times, she's on a bookcase. Once in a while, I'll take a spoonful and put her in a garden bed when I am weeding or planting. She's been gone since 2006. That was our 3 legged shepherd, who loved to lean into the snow.
Then we have my sister. Nancy is in a pill bottle (actually 2). She's on my dresser. I keep thinking I should get one of those pretty perfume bottles to put what's left of her in, but then I think a JD shooter would be a better fit. Occasionally I pick up the bottle and try to open it, thinking it has a current script in it! Her loss date is probably the most difficult, even gone 7 years. Now that I think of it, a pill bottle or a shooter - same difference, probably. I put a bit of her into my flower beds every spring.
Mom is in a plain wooden box, bigger than the tin for Bama, but smaller than a big vase. Mom was, after all, not very big (4 foot 9 or 10). She's in the living room, on the under shelf of one of those pretty square oak tables that we have in several rooms. This way she's right in the middle of it all, like she always was. 3 years gone, we're grateful for all the time we had with her that was good. She loved a good action movie, and dementia gave her the ability to see a new one every day! She comes with us on vacation to new places. Gave her a trip to Bourbon Street and the Mississippi a few years back.
Another pill bottle holds a bit of a dear friend, to be given a Viking burial in the spring. What he wanted was to be put on a wooden ship, have a flaming arrow shot and the funeral pyre to burn as his remains floated off. Well, we will do the closest we can to that - the pyre may not be as large as a true Viking pyre, and there may not be a flaming arrow, but we'll get the fire and the small wooden boat. Lighter fluid works for sure. We'll have to wait for calm winds and an outgoing tide.
Santana, our big old shepherd, is in the fanciest container. Cherry wood, lined in velvet with a brass label, and a spot for a photo in the front. It looks like a miniature chest. Turns out when your dog dies and the local expensive 24 hour place does the cremation, you get to choose (all included) from a line of high end containers. He was my work at home companion for a few years, loved him dearly. Although a convicted felon, he had my heart. His heart was big, too, and it turned out to be his demise. He'll be gardening with me in the spring for sure.
Such a change in customs in my life time. Cultures all have rituals associated with death that connect with the living. After all, these rituals aren't really for the dead, but for those left here. Being of primarily Irish and Italian descent (did the DNA test and everything! Found Neanderthal and Scandinavian within that Italian and Irish mix), I was raised to believe death is part of life. We deal with it as it comes, we do our best. Our best is never the same as others' bests, and that's part of it all too. Our connection to our pets was also well honored - we always carried through with these family losses and rituals.
Accept the rituals of all, respect the bests of all, and honor those who came before and those who left too soon. Reflect upon them as often as you can, and cherish the memories you have. Keep them alive for those who didn't know them, especially the young. Their born days are carved in our hearts, not just stuck in our brains.
Of course, we have a stash of ash, like folks do today. Used to be you went to a cemetery to pay your respects, leave love and flowers. Now, we have little bottles in our homes that carry the remains of our loved ones. It probably started for some of us with our pets.
We have our Bama girl. She's in a tin, like the kind you used to put recipes in. You know, you'd write them out, or yank 'em out of magazines. Now we use Pinterest or leave them in our email. Once in a while I print one out, and put it in my nearly antique BH&G cookbook that was my Mom's. Bama floats around the house. Sometimes the tin is on the hutch, other times, she's on a bookcase. Once in a while, I'll take a spoonful and put her in a garden bed when I am weeding or planting. She's been gone since 2006. That was our 3 legged shepherd, who loved to lean into the snow.
Then we have my sister. Nancy is in a pill bottle (actually 2). She's on my dresser. I keep thinking I should get one of those pretty perfume bottles to put what's left of her in, but then I think a JD shooter would be a better fit. Occasionally I pick up the bottle and try to open it, thinking it has a current script in it! Her loss date is probably the most difficult, even gone 7 years. Now that I think of it, a pill bottle or a shooter - same difference, probably. I put a bit of her into my flower beds every spring.
Mom is in a plain wooden box, bigger than the tin for Bama, but smaller than a big vase. Mom was, after all, not very big (4 foot 9 or 10). She's in the living room, on the under shelf of one of those pretty square oak tables that we have in several rooms. This way she's right in the middle of it all, like she always was. 3 years gone, we're grateful for all the time we had with her that was good. She loved a good action movie, and dementia gave her the ability to see a new one every day! She comes with us on vacation to new places. Gave her a trip to Bourbon Street and the Mississippi a few years back.
Another pill bottle holds a bit of a dear friend, to be given a Viking burial in the spring. What he wanted was to be put on a wooden ship, have a flaming arrow shot and the funeral pyre to burn as his remains floated off. Well, we will do the closest we can to that - the pyre may not be as large as a true Viking pyre, and there may not be a flaming arrow, but we'll get the fire and the small wooden boat. Lighter fluid works for sure. We'll have to wait for calm winds and an outgoing tide.
Santana, our big old shepherd, is in the fanciest container. Cherry wood, lined in velvet with a brass label, and a spot for a photo in the front. It looks like a miniature chest. Turns out when your dog dies and the local expensive 24 hour place does the cremation, you get to choose (all included) from a line of high end containers. He was my work at home companion for a few years, loved him dearly. Although a convicted felon, he had my heart. His heart was big, too, and it turned out to be his demise. He'll be gardening with me in the spring for sure.
Such a change in customs in my life time. Cultures all have rituals associated with death that connect with the living. After all, these rituals aren't really for the dead, but for those left here. Being of primarily Irish and Italian descent (did the DNA test and everything! Found Neanderthal and Scandinavian within that Italian and Irish mix), I was raised to believe death is part of life. We deal with it as it comes, we do our best. Our best is never the same as others' bests, and that's part of it all too. Our connection to our pets was also well honored - we always carried through with these family losses and rituals.
Accept the rituals of all, respect the bests of all, and honor those who came before and those who left too soon. Reflect upon them as often as you can, and cherish the memories you have. Keep them alive for those who didn't know them, especially the young. Their born days are carved in our hearts, not just stuck in our brains.
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