Last weekend we performed my father’s ash ceremonies. It was a weekend that I had been dreading ever since his passing. I had picked out a simple urn for my father’s remains. It was made out of reclaimed wood, and it’s been sitting on our bookshelf since his funeral service. When it came to actually spreading the ashes, I had two ideological oppositions to it that I struggled with, and it was difficult for me to overcome. I doubt that anyone going through this same situation will stumble upon this page, but in the unlikely event that occurs, I hope that this post will explain how I was able to rise to this occasion, and my thought process thereof.
My first objection to scattering my fathers remains was the most difficult, and the one that I had been dreading the most. I was scared to let my father go. As I had mentioned, his urn has been sitting on our bookshelf, and I was scared to lose his presence. I felt that by letting go of his remains, I was finally letting him go. I was afraid of what that would mean; as his son, I felt that it was almost like me giving up on him and his memory. I know that it seems silly, but I could not fathom not having him around. Now that he’s gone, this was the last physical part of him that I had, and just giving them freely back to the Earth was me having to acknowledge the truth. He’s not here anymore.
Don’t get me wrong; this whole time since his passing has been incredibly hard for me. There will be times that I will break down for seemingly no reason. The only times that I legitimately feel ok are when I am too busy to think about it. I guess that it’s a blessing that I’ve been so wrapped up in our building process because it keeps my mind from dwelling on the crushing, debilitating truth. The problem though is when I’m not busy. Those are the times that I remember little things from my childhood that I haven’t thought about in 20 years. I have a bad memory as it is, and I am worried about forgetting these memories.
I miss my dad’s voice, I miss going to breakfast with him, I miss disagreeing on almost everything, I miss our discussions about the Vikings, and I miss feeling loved by him. Since he’s no longer here, all of these emotions I connected with his remains, and it was hard for me to envision letting go of that.
Secondly, I had trouble processing our plan for scattering his remains. We had planned to divide his remains amongst those of us left to do with what we will. I don’t know if this is strange, but I thought it was weird to divide his remains. Like, somehow he wouldn’t be whole or something. We had discussed this the day after his passing, and up until the day that we actually had his ash ceremonies, I really had a hard time agreeing to this plan. Again, just an ideological lack of understanding on my part. I understand that there are a lot of people left who loved my father, and I get it that the ceremony would be more impactful for them if they were allowed to do it how they wanted, but still. It just seemed weird to me.
Once I had come to grips with dividing his remains, there was the physical task of actually doing it. I procrastinated on this for as long as I could, and we didn’t actually do it until right before the first ceremony. Thankfully, Bre was there to help me through it. She knew that I was having a hard time letting go of his remains, and I am lucky to have her here to remind me that my father would not want to be kept in a box. He, of all people, would want to be outdoors. On the lake, in the woods – this would be his eternal connection with what he loved. The funny thing is that once we actually started dividing his remains, it got easier. I was afraid of what they would look like, I was afraid of trying to do it honorably. I was afraid of spilling some and what that would mean. I was afraid of what containers we used because whatever we used would always have trace amounts of him. And because of that, I would certainly keep these containers forever.
We ended up using mason jars to divide his ashes, and once we started it was odd because it looked kind of like sand. I am thankful that my job has taught me to disconnect to a certain extent, because I was able to focus on the task at hand instead of the emotional implications that came with it. And just like that, we were done and ready for the ceremonies. By dividing his remains I had to accept that we would be separately scattering them, but I was able to also realize that I think that would be ok with him.
My sister and her family flew in for the weekend and we had planned a big ceremony for the first one at a place my father loved. He had specifically told me the day before his passing that this is where he wanted his remains to be. We had a big gathering of everyone who could make it, and we had to hike 6 miles round trip to get to the location. It was cold, and it looked like it was going to rain, but the weather held out. We held a small ceremony, and then let him rest. By completing the task of dividing his remains, I was able to accept the eventuality that we would be letting them go. The hardest part was walking away from them. He loved the water, and this place gave him an opportunity to be there. As the waves lapped away at the memorial wreath made of grapevines from his garden and flowers from his funeral service and contained his remains, he gradually dissipated into his final resting place.
The next day we had two smaller ceremonies that were a little more private. First, we scattered some of dad’s remains on his land around and on his deer stand out in the woods. My father loved the woods, and it hurt him that he was unable to spend more time out there the last few years. Some of my fondest memories of spending time with my father as a child were associated with being in the woods, or fishing and hunting. The thing that I enjoyed most about it was physically feeling his love for the woods and wildlife. It emanated from him, and I am thankful that he taught me to appreciate nature. So, it only made sense that we kept him on the land that he loved.
The last ceremony we performed was at our land. We had transplanted a White Pine tree from his land and scattered his remains around it. In this way, I had wanted a tree from his own land to serve as a memorial tree. White Pine is his favorite tree, and it only makes sense as this future giant will look over our entire property. This comforts me in that Dad will continually have a chance to look after us and our land -the woods, river, field and animals. The tree is planted on the north edge of the field, so it’s partially protected from strong winds and lightning, but also has open south sun to help it grow without competition. I look forward to spending the rest of my life watching this tree grow towards Heaven.
So even though I struggled moving towards these ceremonies for both emotional and ideological reasons, we were able to do them. And in the end, I am glad for it. Like I said, Dad wouldn’t want to be kept in a box, and he loved us all enough to want us to spread his remains as we wished. It’s hard to see past my own feelings and try to understand what he would have wanted. Dad was quiet emotionally, and he didn’t freely divulge his thoughts and feelings. But, I think that we did things the right way to help him be at peace.