I read Mousie's blog from 9th May and was so moved I just had to get this down.
My own mum's ashes are scattered on a beautiful hillside overlooking the sea. It was a favourite picnic spot for her and my dad in their (too short) retirement. They had planned to move to the sea but events overtook them and when she was in remission they used to drive here with an M&S picnic and gaze for hours at the beauty of it all. When we knew she had only weeks left we all discussed with her what kind of funeral and so on she wanted. At her 65th birthday party I sat writing down all the hymns she hated and all the ones she would put up with (and this from a former sunday school teacher). Her instructions were no black and no sad faces and no wasting money on expensive flowers or coffins. Summer dresses and joyfullness at her life please. On the day she died we phoned and booked the funeral negotiating with the minister who was shocked as we were actually calling BEFORE she died! We were on a tight schedule, my sister was over from the US and had to get back to her boys. She died a few hours later. And we are control freaks.
In our best summer frocks we went in the pouring rain ('god crying for granny')to George Herbert's tiny little church at the evening service and sang our hearts out. Grandchildren cried. We cried. Friends cried. My dad, stoic, refused keeping his tears for a private moment. It was beautiful. We actually taped the service for my sister to take to her boys as they couldn't come over. The cremation was held a few days later and the ashes scattered a day after that. My pooor sister from the US was torn, her adopted religion forbids crematation but to me it is a fitting ending place. We had lizianthus (which make me cry now) and my beloved sisters put in a flower for my (first) lost baby with the flowers from their children.
And now my (third) tiny baby's ashes are scattered under a conker tree in our tiny local churchyard. I go there to sit and think when I need to be alone with my memories. All the children know it is 'Toto's' tree as we have never hidden it from them - a somewhat surprised grandad was taken to it recently and had it all explained to him by a serious 8 year old (my second baby if you are counting, the one that made it!). And when for the first time I took her to 'granny's hill' she took it all in her stride and looked for my bouquet that I had strewn there 2 years after her death. Long gone of course. Like granny but never far from my thoughts.....
sausage and potato roast with arugula
3 days ago