Salt water

This morning at 9 am I boarded a boat in San Francisco with my family and cruised out to the Marin Headlands to scatter my parents’ ashes. While riding out on the Neptune Society’s yacht Naiad the bay was beautiful, foggy, and mostly calm. We could see Alcatraz clearly, and all but the top of the Golden Gate bridge. Leaning over the railing, I got doused by a curtain of spray. Laughing with my kids, I headed inside for a hot cup of tea and a towel.

Once we reached the designated spot, my two sisters and I held the urns with our parents’ ashes and poured them over the side. Mixed with flower petals, we could see where the ashes were as they settled into the salty water of the bay. Passing around a huge bag of flowers, we threw those too over the side, a wild and colorful shower of roses, irises, chrysanthemums, sunflowers, and lilies. As the boat circled the ashes before heading back to the pier, I loved how bright the display was. No headstone, no permanent marker, just this little portion of the Pacific Ocean mixed with bright flowers.

The return trip was more somber, colder and more windy. Whitecaps appeared on the water and my sisters and I sat inside, discussing plans for scattering Mom’s remaining ashes we had reserved for a separate location.

The Hollywood version of funerals has always confused me a little. I’ve never seen such a thing in person as the sort of open-casket-and-funeral-home scenario often portrayed on-screen. We had three funerals in a year, starting with Mom in late 2008, then Dad and our brother in late 2009. Each one was beautiful, radiant, warm and sunny; not unusual for autumn in Northern California, but welcome and wonderful nonetheless.

Letting go of physical remains has helped me feel a little lighter today. Thomas had remarked that I seemed upset all this week, and I was, but couldn’t say why. There were tears today, but a lot of laughter, too. Releasing the ashes and giving into the pull of the sea felt right somehow. My parents were travelers, having seen many parts of the world I have yet to see myself. Interring them on solid land just didn’t seem to fit with that.

Back on shore, we all shared a meal together and conversation floated from one subject to another without anything to weigh it down. Bits of blue sky broke through the fog as we left the restaurant, gradually progressing to the glowing warmth of a clear, sun-soaked afternoon.

I think I’ll go garden.