This is an odd topic, but it is real: Dad went up my nose.
I will explain.
My father died on Christmas Day 2021. It was during the height of COVID. We all knew dad was sick. My father was not one to be overly emotional about anything. He was a crusty cowboy who was not formally educated, but he was the smartest man I have ever known. He had common sense and could smell B.S. miles away.
Dad's wishes were that when he died were that we all did not come running when it happened. Well, December in Minnesota kind of makes that a reality whether we we wanted to be there or not. Dad was cremated per his wishes and he was placed inside a plastic bag (no kidding).
The next summer mom decided to take dad's ashes to his favorite hunting spot in rural Minnesota. I suppose that was to be the funeral dad did not want. One of my dad's sisters was also involved. It was decided that some of his ashes would be spread at his favorite hunting spot, some at the farm where he grew up, and some at the Lutheran cemetery where his mom and dad are buried (my paternal grandparents).
Here's the challenge: We need to separate dad's ashes to take to three different places. Here is dad's cremated body in what resembles a gallon-sized zip lock bag. Who is going to open it and take out the ashes to make three bags to take to spread at three different sites? Me.
I did have my siblings and my mom surrounding me while I did this. I never thought I would be measuring out dad's remains like cups of flour for a recipe. It was extremely emotional for me. I am betting that very few of you out there have ever handled a loved one's cremated remains. The ashes are heavier than what you would think. The ashes are also lighter than what you would think. While I am separating out dad's remains into three separate containers the dust from the ashes went up my nose. I was not expecting that.
Instead of freaking out, I took that moment knowing that my dad will always and forever be with me. I breathed him in.
It has taken me this long to process what happened.
