Six months later

The sea was wild, sassy. Tide high. Moon full. We took my sister’s ashes to Loblolly Cove where the rocks offered an initial perch, the sea a final wash.

We watched and waited for the wave that would offer the last rinse. They teased us, the waves, licking one side of the rock where her ashes lay, then the other. After a while, medium-sized wave crashed and it looked like it had taken all the ashes at first. But it hadn’t.

We watched and waited some more. Finally, I approached with a plastic bin to scoop water onto the rock. And wouldn’t you know, wasn’t it just perfect, that the biggest wave of the day arrived as I stood there, drenching me head to toe and washing the last of my sister away in a dramatic rush of foam.

Of course it was her. I laughed. “Hello, Noreen!”

As we walked back to the car, I noticed how much of the sediment in the rocks looked like human cremation remains.

K: “We all come from the same stuff.”

Finn discovered how tasty crab shells left behind by gulls were and made the return slower than it might have been otherwise.

And as always, I grabbed a token.

Now the token sits where her ashes used to be, in front of one of her favorite totems.

Today, the WordPress platform resists uploads, spins its refusal in ways I’ve never seen, forcing me to insert, and then insert again, all while wondering what the f@*k is going on.

To that I also say, “Hello, sister!”

May she be at peace. May I be at peace. May we all be at peace.

21 thoughts on “Six months later

    1. deemallon Post author

      She would have loved it, I’m sure. The place I first thought of going was packed because of an art festival. We were waved away. Even that gave me a sense of her presence.

      Reply
  1. Marti

    To the openness of the sea, the wildness of the waves, the siren call of spirit and I think this place was where she was meant to fly, soar over the waves. Water is cleansing and your drenching, yes was Noreen but also the combination of you both having one more frolic but this time, a healing splash.

    Reply
  2. Tina

    Such a send off .. and her goodbye to you. I would love to have seen the look on your face when she / the wave came full force. And to replace the ashes with the stone .. beautiful.

    Reply
    1. deemallon Post author

      Yeah me too — to have seen the look on my face. I wasn’t afraid although later I wondered if maybe I should’ve been.

      Reply
  3. Acey

    The specifics of anything that involves this level of closure has fascinated me for a really long time. Each case is unique in detail but seems the depth of relief and release is very similar. Especially when ocean water is involved.

    Reply
    1. deemallon Post author

      The ocean was such a partner in the ritual. Big and wild enough to hold and take my sister home. It seemed to me that she picked the time and place and even, influenced the ocean. Can’t explain. But having read several of your blog posts when I couldn’t sleep last night, I have a feeling that you’ll understand.

      Reply
  4. ravenandsparrow

    I laughed out loud when I read the part about Noreen dousing you with her wave. This final scattering seems so appropriate and real. May her memory provide a bridge to the ironies and beauties of the life you still hold.

    Reply
    1. deemallon Post author

      It WAS funny. Just so clear a sign. Play… but with a dash of menace. Classic. Thank you for noting irony. Beauty and irony — two qualities I wouldn’t have thought to call out as markers of a good life, but seeing them there in your comment, I realize that they are.

      Reply

Leave a Reply to Michelle Slater Cancel reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s