Ashes to ...
by Lisa Hartley
"Oh no!" my friend Helene shouts, a loud crash bursting from the office.
"Oh! Lisa, I am so, so sorry."
I run for the broom to sweep up glass, sand and seashells scattered on the wooden floor.
"Not a problem, not at all", but she goes on, "I am so clumsy, I am so, so sorry".
Finally, not understanding why she is so upset, I say, "It really doesn't matter, it's sand from the beach. Easy to replace."
There is a pause, and she smiles. "I thought it was your parents' ashes".
Quite understandable, the ashes had recently been found in my brother’s Vanagon. They went on quite a few adventures before they were rescued. Like many people, we had no instructions. Dad said to toss his ashes in a small creek where he loved to fish, and Mom said nothing, except that she wanted to be cremated. Helene thought they were in a jar on my shelf.
My parents didn't die at the same time. The four years between their deaths were a stressful time for our extended family. There were so many other things to take care of. We really didn't know what to do, so we did nothing.
Eventually, we rented a boat and headed out to sea, putting their cremains into the ocean in front of their beloved home. The grandchildren made small boats and put flowers into the water as we took turns scattering their ashes (paying attention to the wind, of course!).
Frustratingly, it’s not always clear how we "should" take care of our people's cremains. There are traditional ways: a niche in a columbarium, buried in a family plot, or a cemetery. Perhaps a burial at sea or even a living reef. Maybe glass jewelry made from the ashes, or just place them into a piece of jewelry. Maybe a pretty vase on your shelf with a photo and a poem.
Many people request cremation and then say, "Just scatter my remains". But where? How? Do they want to be in the garden (cremains are too alkaline for the plants), their favorite spot at the beach (where others are sunbathing?) or holiday location (how do I get there?)? One client jokingly requested the top of twin mountain peaks outside of Vancouver. (Ask me how we solved this!) Another friend took her husband's ashes on a road trip and left a few of his at all his favorite places.
Many things get in the way: municipal by-laws, family politics, busy lives, and often just not knowing what to do. There isn’t a precedent.
Recently, my cousin died. It was a stressful time. His immediate family lives all over British Columbia. The Celebration of Life was hosted by his friends in his city. Everyone else had to travel; one cousin drove 30 hours without stopping just to be there. The Ceremony was long, emotional and overwhelming. It was a full day. His extended family came together for the first time in many, many years. At the end, I felt rattled, exhausted and somehow incomplete.
The next day, I got a text, “We’re scattering his ashes….now!” Could I come? The family was at a nearby lake, where my cousin loved to swim.
When I arrived, a small gathering of family members sat in the sunshine on a public dock on the lake. I asked what they wanted to do. They planned to take turns speaking, saying goodbye and putting the ashes in the water, then sing a song. I’d brought rosemary for remembrance and a poem that was read when he died, and again at the Celebration of Life.
Perfect.
We stood in a semi-circle, with his ashes completing our circle. The rosemary was shared around. There was an invitation to take a deep breath and notice the lake, the wind, and the sunshine, to be present. We spoke of what we were here to do, invited people to speak or not speak, to say goodbye, as they saw fit. We instinctively took turns, going to the edge of the dock, saying good-bye, and releasing some of the ashes into the water (always respectful of the wind). We supported and witnessed one another in our mutual loss.
When that felt complete, we read his poem, sang his song, and then spoke once more. “We’ve said goodbye and released his ashes into the lake where he loved to swim, and when we return home, we carry his memories in our hearts”. We hugged and headed off in different directions. I felt complete. There seemed to be a huge relief, a sense of completion, of having taken care of him. I could see the sense of relief on his Mother’s face, along with her tears. Hard as it was, the job was done.
Scattering the ashes is an important part of the process of “laying someone to rest”. Many families have ashes in their homes for years, as they just don’t know what to do with them. Yet, this final act, the committal, is sacred. It is both profound and simple. Here we are. Here are the last physical remains of our person. It is a moment of release, of letting go.
One last goodbye.
People often experience a sense of completion.
The ceremony can be as simple or creative as needed. It doesn’t need to take long. You don’t need to cater it, find speakers, or even rent a hall. Typically, it is an intimate gathering. Still, it needs to be done with intention, thoughtfulness and a sensitivity to both the person who died and those who are left behind.
Your local Life-Cycle Celebrant can help you shape your ideas into a fitting ceremony. As ceremony specialists, they will stand with you as you put your person to rest.
Lisa Hartley
Lisa is a published Author and Master Celebrant, Lisa Hartley has spent the last 13 years crafting ceremonies for families, couples, parents, and businesses. Since the pandemic, she has focused on grieving clients, providing funerals, celebrations of life, graveside services, ash scatterings and support for DIY ceremony creation, both online and off. Her work is supported by a deep meditation practice, training in facilitation, and hospice grief work.
A west coast girl, her first experience with death was walking with her Mom to the end of her life, in the family home in Saanich, B.C. in 1999. Just as she was blessed with a loving Mom who taught her about life, her Mom taught her the gift of caring for someone you love as they die. Recently released, her book Love and Salt Air helps others as they learn about loss.
