I rarely write about things I haven’t lived through myself. It’s too easy to get the facts wrong when relating the experiences of others, and when I get facts wrong, I like it to be on purpose.
But every so often I’ll hear a story so good I just have to share it. Like the one I received yesterday in an email from my nephew, Justin.
Justin’s a good kid and an honest one. I yelled at him once when he was making a fuss at a movie theater, but that was over 25 years ago, when he was six or seven, and I’m sure he’s forgiven me for that by now. So I think I can trust in the veracity of his tale.
I’m changing the names and a few locations, to – as Jack Webb might say – protect the innocent.
Everyone was sad when Grandma Angela died two years ago. She had been a great mother, grandmother and friend to many. It was generally agreed upon that she would be missed. The funeral was held, family mourned, people moved on.
Angela’s ashes were left in the care of her eldest daughter, Nadine. Nadine knew Angela’s wishes were that her ashes be scattered around the family’s lakefront property near Marquette in the Upper Peninsula, but as it was late October and the property over eight hours north, Nadine figured she would take care of that detail when the weather warmed.
The months went by; winter turned to spring, spring to summer, then autumn, then winter again. Meanwhile, Angela’s ashes maintained their place on the mantle over the fireplace.
When summer finally rolled around again, the family decided it was time to honor grandma’s wishes. A trip to the property up north was planned and everyone got in on the act. Uncles, cousins, sons and daughters; everyone wanted to be a part of Angela’s final farewell.
Someone came up with the idea of a memorial garden. Angela’s ashes would be tilled into the fertile soil, flowers planted, some sort of engraving installed. It would be a fitting testament to a woman who had touched so many lives.
The excitement grew as trip day neared. This would not be a solemn occasion only, but a chance for Angela’s friends and family to gather together and enjoy one another’s company; to raise a toast to kinsfolk, lineage, and the tenacity of familial blood. It would be a reunion, vacation and memorial all rolled into one.
Trip day came and the clan gathered at Nadine’s house. Everyone in attendance brought gardening equipment and a careful inventory was taken; spades, rakes, hoes? Check, check, check. Flower seeds? Check. Watering cans, fertilizer, nutrient-rich topsoil? Check, check and check.
The caravan moving north consisted of two mini-vans, a jeep, two sedans and a rusted pickup loaded down with gardening supplies.
Lakeside, family members dug, hoed and raked, breaking only once, around noon, for a family picnic. The tilling then continued into the afternoon, until, near dusk, the time finally came to lay Angela’s ashes to rest.
It was at this point that Nadine noticed one family member had not made the trip as planned.
Angela.
Grandma was still sitting on the mantle back home.
Maybe next summer.
mtaylor@staffordmediasolutions.com
(616) 548-8273
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