scattered showers
It was pouring with rain as we stood near the tree. The official had raked the leaves clear in a 6 foot long oval and read a short piece from her waterproof folder.
She then lifted the urn and, squeezing both handles together, let mum's ashes slowly fall out from the bottom. In turns, one by one, we solemnly squeezed that handle and deposited the grey dust onto the soaking muddy grass. Some saying their goodbyes, others in silence.
"That's where we all end up" my uncle said as I put my arm around him. "She was a good lass."
A squirrel darted across the path and disappeared into the nearby undergrowth. My cousin noticed that the nearest bench carried two plaques that displayed the names of two people who shared the first names of her dad and my mum. It was an odd, but heartwarming coincidence.
The official said a few more words, thanked us for being here for mum, tipped out the water that had gathered in her folder and made her way back to her office.
In a movie we would have walked back to our cars and, just as we were saying our goodbyes, the sun would crack the clouds, the rain would stop and someone would make a comment about how that was mum's doing as she was looking down on us.
In reality the rain intensified. So we all got into our misted up cars and drove away to our homes.
If anything, this scattering has hit harder than the funeral. It was the sheer finality of it. All that was left of mum was being battered into the earth by the relentless winter rain.
Mum had a difficult start to her life. She also had a difficult end to her life. I hope that in the space between those two things she found some joy.
At least now she has found peace.