Long as I remember mom said she wanted to wear out not rust out. When she passed on in the early morning of October 4, 2008 at 94 years of age there was little doubt she had overwhelmingly succeeded. She made very few requests regarding her demise except to keep the ceremonious stuff minimal including cremation and her ashes buried above the casket of her only husband, our father. We, her four offspring agreed to her wishes and proceeded in that manner.
Her public memorial was Saturday October 11, 2008, one week after her death. It was a time of tears and grieving. It was also a time of renewing acquaintances both with extended family and friends that although living not far away seems we had lost track of. Many promises of renewed keeping in touch efforts were made and who knows, with some it may happen.
The four of us siblings agreed to gather in Lidgerwood, ND on a day before winter set in for the purpose of burying moms ashes. Mom lived in the Minneapolis/St. Paul area over thirty years after dad was buried in Lidgerwood, so for our two sisters there was a couple hundred miles of travel. Our brother still lives right in Lidgerwood and I’m about 70 miles north.
Sunday November 9, 2008 we gathered at our brother’s house. In some ways it was festive, bringing back a feel of ourselves growing up. The tiny city has changed surprisingly little since we were growing up on a farm about ten miles away. It sometimes amazes me these farming towns hang on by a thread but stay alive decade after decade. Our brother’s wife prepared one of those comfort food meals of scalloped potatoes with ham, fresh hot rolls, various and sundry veggies and condiments and an ever so rich chocolate desert that added an extra inch to my belt line. Then the business at hand.
The day was cold with a biting breeze from the north and the ominous feel of inevitably approaching winter. The family plot was located, dad’s grave found, a plug of sod carefully removed and we used an old but trusty post hole digger. Each of us siblings took a turn at removing some soil while the urn with mom’s ashes was passed among us, our final farewells.
Perhaps it was by design, perhaps coincidence but most probably happenstance that I (the oldest) was holding the urn when the question if the hole was wide enough for the urn was raised. I bent down, placed the urn in the hole and let it drop to final rest. There was a fresh flow of tears before filling in the hole and replacing the chunk of sod. Shortly thereafter we returned to brother’s house to indulge in hot, warming coffee to take the bite of the November wind away.
What percentage of people ever experience actually opening the soil to receive the remains of a loved one or for that matter how many cemeteries permit such activity I have no idea. From my perspective it was the most intimately conclusive good-bye I could imagine.
Within less than the last two months we have experienced two deaths. First our brother’s oldest daughter (37 years) and less than two weeks later our mother passed. Although the death of my niece was more shocking and emotionally difficult she lives on through organ and tissue donations. There is an incredible comfort from that and knowing her desires at her death were fulfilled. With mom there was the memorial and approximately one month until her wishes were fulfilled. In the course of that time I often felt ill, had no energy and in some ways feared my life was near its end which is a contribution to family stress I really don’t wish to make. It has been nearly one week since burying mom, I feel much better and suspect I will not be adding to the family stress level in the near future (well at least not from my own demise).
