Fun Wedding

I recently returned from Minnesota back to California.  It's been a full-circle set of emotions from spreading dad's ashes to attending the wedding of SSP's daughter.  Wow.  Talk about a range from bummer to happy.  I guess that's life.  We embrace the suck along with the fun milestones.  

What I'm struggling with is the way my mother and siblings handled my dad's ashes with my father's side of the family, but I can't go into that now.  The five-words-or-less version is that I was the only one of my immediate family that went to the Lutheran Cemetery in Glenwood, MN with my aunt (dad's sister) to spread his ashes at the tombstone of his parents' grave (my grandparents).  

My aunt is a very strong woman.  I've never seen her cry despite her many, many life challenges.  She is also 81 years old and holds positions on several boards for community service.  She golfs daily and walks the course.  What I'm getting at is the woman is unstoppable.  She looks two decades younger and not in a Hollywood plastic kind of way.  She is beautiful, fit, smart, and sassy.  She will also be the first to tell you that you are full of BS and to bugger off.  I love her.

When we got to my grandparents' grave site and started to spread my dad's ashes my aunt fell apart.  I'm so glad she was not alone.  She sobbed on my shoulder for a long, long time while we stood there.  I did not want to dis my mother nor my siblings for not being there with my aunt, but I was secretly super pissed off that they did not come to the cemetery.  There is a long story there, but this was not the time to hold onto any past grievances with my father's family.  I thought it was a HUGE eff-you to my dad's family for my mom and siblings not to come to the cemetery.

I've rambled on enough about that.

The title of this post is "Fun Wedding."  SSP's daughter got married and we were invited to the wedding.  The bonus was that my Minnesota coven was also there, so it was like a reunion as well.  The wedding was held in a Catholic church near St. Cloud.  It's been a while since I've been to a Catholic wedding.  No, the walls did not fall in when I entered the church.  The service was very spiritual, which was something I was not expecting.  There was a moment when the priest had everybody raise their palms in the air and pray for the couple.  The energy was electric.  You could actually feel the buzz of energy being emanated.  I got goosebumps on my arms.  I shed tears of pure joy.  I was not the only one who felt it.  My Minnesota coven also felt the energy and spirit moving.  

The reception and dinner were held at a golf course.  After dinner we all went downstairs for dancing.  Nobody had to tell us to get on the floor.  We went out in force to the dance and stayed there all night.  Despite the social demands of being mother of the bride, SSP always made her way to us when she could.   There's a reason we have all remained friends for so many decades.

One image from the night that I will carry with me forever is seeing my friend, SYB, dance with her husband.  They are both really good dancers and when they are out on the floor together they are so fluid.  Each one anticipates the next move and it's so smooth like it's been rehearsed for hours, but it is not rehearsed -- they are just very comfortable in each other's arms.  It's so much fun to watch. 

Here's to SYB and her husband.  They rock each other like a wagon wheel.

Dad's Ashes

As I type this I am in my childhood home in Minnesota.  My dad's ashes are by the front door waiting for us to take them up north tomorrow to spread them by his deer stand, the farm where he grew up, and the cemetery where his parents are buried.   

So many emotions.  So many memories.  

Last night, when I arrived in Minnesota, my mother greeted my at the door stating that my father was here.  Yes.  I believe that.  His spirit is here in the house.  Her meaning was more literal.  She brought out a bag of ashes in a plastic bag and placed them on the picnic table outside where we were seated enjoying the warm August evening.  

"There's your father," my mother stated quasi-flatly as she placed his ashes down.  To her credit, I'm not sure how she thought she was supposed to feel in the moment.  Judging a widow is never a good practice.  We don't know what is going through her mind.  Grace prevails in situations like this. 

I wrapped my hands around the bag of ashes, closed my eyes, and wept.  His entire life, the ups and downs, the triumphs, and the defeats, all the arguments dad and I ever had, ultimately ended up as a bag of ashes on a picnic table. 

 I'm looking right now at his high school graduation picture, his Navy picture, his wedding picture.  Gone.  His life is just gone.  He is literally a pile of ash by the door. 

We all are awaiting the same fate.  Our egos just don't realize it yet.  We are all dust in the wind.