We spread my mom’s ashes today. My brother flew the two of us out over the Gulf of Mexico, just off shore from Galveston Island where I’ve rented a house for a week. At about 250 feet above sea level, and with the terrain indicator alarm going off, I opened the window in the Cessna and with a little struggle was able to get the ashes out of the plastic bag and into the air. Released. And so it is, she’s come full circle. Back into the waters from which she came, birthed all those years ago to an unlikely pair of rice farmers on the Gulf Coast.
I
feel good about this decision. There have been so many, many decisions
we’ve had to make in her stead these 13 years since she’s died, and not all of
them have left me in peace. Of the options we could come up with of
where to put her ashes – this seems right. When she
found out she was dying she didn’t hop a plane to Paris, or book a trip to a
Greek Island, she got in her car and drove to Galveston, Texas, where she
checked into the San Luis for two weeks. This is where she came, at every
one of life’s junctions, to make peace. And with this peace is made here
and an era ends. Each of the trusts have closed with my uncle Peter’s death
marking the last; the work of it all is done and this makes this last letting
go seem all the more timely. The right thing.
I
am so much older now than I was when this all started. When she died I
could hardly see my way to the rewrite of a life without her. I could
hardly bare the accumulation of years, stacking up to eventually be more than
those I had with her. And here I am at the halfway mark of 13 years, in
a life that feels squarely like another chapter, equal in both value and depth.  |
| Us, headed out to sea |
Beautifully written. So fitting. She so loved the beach. Please send my regards to John. R. in Katy
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