We had prayed for good weather, and we got a pretty good deal. Warm, with low winds and no rain in sight. It took us a couple hours to reach or destination, a meal in celebration of my sister and brother-in-laws anniversary and the opportunity to gather as one huge family – albeit with a few missing unavoidably, but always on our minds and in our thoughts. Conservative celebrations with the niggle high tide appointments.
After a crap nights sleep, we filed into our cars and took the short drive to one of Dads favourite spots to go to with his wife, our Mum. Mixed emotions from all, and no guarantees over welling up or not. Until you’re actually there, in that moment, you will never know how you feel about it.
We parked, gathered the kids together and took the walk over to the beach where we were greeted with an inbound tide. Timing so important, planned down to the last minute.
As we approached a good spot the beach became almost empty. Those that had been walking up and down seemed to disappear from sight. The eldest two kiddos dug out a deep enough hole in the sand, water visible at the bottom and rising to fill the void. He had always loved the sea, something he passed on to all his kids.
Quietly, almost in silence we poured the silvery speckled ashes, like grains of grey and white sand, into the hole. A few of the kids wanting to take a handful of their beloved Grandfather to scatter for themselves. The only way I can describe the experience is to say it was peaceful. The waves were roaring in the wind, but at that moment we were all keeping our peace. Absorbing the last act of a kindness we could perform for Dad, to place the last of him somewhere unmarked by anything physical but secured in the memory of our hearts.
We know where he is.
We are secure in our faith of where he is and who he is with.
We are peace filled knowing one day we will meet again.
Psalm 62 v 5-8 (NLT)
See you soon Daddy, I hope you’re behaving. Love you.