I lived for thirty-three years on this earth. My end came most unexpectedly, September last. My earthly remains were reduced to ashes. Ashes which sat for seven sad months, save for a few grams which were placed into pendants, worn by my mother and sister.
Just over a week ago, my mother contacted a Portland area cemetery to inquire whether or not they would be able to accommodate a tree which would be planted with my ashes. It just so happened that they could. In fact, they had a specific location for just such a tree. A secluded area dedicated to the interred remains of children and babies. Being a father myself, and having always had a great love of children which was always reciprocated, I became as close to feeling hopeful as one can in my condition, that I could make a difference, that I could once again be useful to someone, anyone, in a way that I had not imagined possible. Knowing what I meant to my son, my mom and dad, my sister and brother and the rest of my friends and family, and what they meant to me, I had begun to feel so limited in what I could do for them. This would be different.
My parents met with someone at the memorial park to see the location. With trees on three sides, the spot in question did not provide a great deal of room for a tree, but my folks left there and went straight to a local garden center very close by. After looking at dozens of candidates, a young weeping cherry tree whose flowers had just recently dropped called out to both of them. This was just last Sunday. My mom spoke with her contact at the memorial park to tell her what we found and to ask if arrangements could be make for the following Thursday. The tree delivery was scheduled, time off arranged, et cetera.
Well, yesterday was my birthday, the first since my death. It was the warmest day of the year, so far. A winter and spring, which brought record rainfall and a record number of rainy days, was interrupted on this day with sunshine and warmth. With my mom and dad in attendance, my mom lovingly spread my ashes on the ground, into the hole in which the little weeping cherry tree would be placed. I can still hear the words my mom spoke as she spread my remains upon the earth. I love her so very much.
The grounds crew placed some dirt atop my ashes so that I wouldn’t overwhelm to poor little tree all at once, and then the tree was place just above me. As the dirt was filled in I began reaching out to the tree, and when the water can was dispensed, the connection was made. It was at that moment that the sun and the wind were returned to me.
- for Brian -