Where was I? (HOL 65)

House of Laughter 65

The rest of the week was pretty laid back. We visited the alligator farm in St. Augustine. My mom wasn’t particularly fond of the feeding show where they threw frozen white lab rats the size of footballs into the pond, and the gators would catch them in mid air.

One of the main reasons we met at the beach was to scatter my grandmother’s ashes in the ocean. After much deliberation about renting a boat vs. smuggling the container onto an afternoon tourist cruise (we assume the other tourists would not have approved.) We decided to take the remains down to the ocean ourselves.

The container was about the size of a garbage can lid, and felt like it was made from a thick paper. The top was decorated with colorful flowers. As we understood it, you just had to release the container into the ocean and within a few minutes it would dissolve completely.

We walked down the shore. The stretch of beach we were staying on had particularly rough currents and it was high tide. The kids were all excited to be down on the beach after dinner. Eli and Lily both peed on a sand dune. I was trying not to cry, keep an eye on Isaac, and to figure out what I was feeling. It wasn’t fresh grief. It wasn’t even a release. The container did not contain who Mimi was any more than one of her old scarves or wigs. Before Dad put the container in the water, I read a poem I wrote. I had to yell over the crashing waves and read quickly because the kids were ready to play.

The young woman lassos the wind and
It pulls her small boat along the New England coast

Every moment of her day was bound to the sea
The morning swim,
The impromptu regatta with her cousins,
Splashing and flirting with the boys on the shore

The sea will soon douse the sun’s light, but the young woman will savor
Every moment riding the wind

Confined only by the Horizon

In the distance on the shore, two figures call out.

Helene an Paul wave to her.

The Father has called them all home.

When I finished, my dad waded out with the awkward package. He wanted to get past the wave breaks, but one knocked him over, and the package drifted back toward shore. My dad tried to push the container back out, but it has already started to fall apart.

Pieces of the colorful flowers washed up on the shore. A large plastic bag pokes out of the rapidly disintegrating disk. I imagine trying to go out and snare the bag and cut it open. I become irritated at the imagined scene of the funeral director assuring my parents that it would all dissolve only to accidentally leave the Ziploc bag in. My irritation was unfounded….within two minutes everything vanished completely.

We let the kids play and dig in the sand for a few more minutes before we all went back to the condo. I had worried about that moment for a long time. I wanted it to be special and genuine. It was at the same time awkward, funny, sad, celebratory, and Holy.

I miss her.

Strength and Honor,

Big Matt

P.S. More to come soon