Six Feet Under Episode 031(b)

It has been almost a year since my father passed away and I finally received the call from my step brother that it was time to spread the cremated ashes. After months of staring at that brown plastic box on the kitchen table, cracked open with the corner of the plastic bag peeking out, my step mother decided to make a clean sweep. I’m somehow surprised that she came to this decision as she’s the type I thought who would take the box with her into her coffin, a symbol of her unending devotion. Kudos to her, I guess.

And so I drove clear across the state to Backwater, WI to set my father free down the Wisconsin River. One more Great Journey. Leaving from the Wisconsin River to flow into the Mighty Mississippi, down to the delta and out into the Gulf, returning him back into the warm waters from where we all arose. A final tribute, a sending off of sorts.

I couldn't wait to get it done.

Due to my prolonged time in front of my computer that morning setting up a stock portfolio, getting more gasoline, washing the car, ironing the dress shirt I wanted to wear "just so" and all the other things I needed desperately to do, I was somehow delayed. This gave me the perfect opportunity to Autobahn-it across HWY 5 and meet the State Patrol a half hour from my destination to the tune of 6 points and $211.00. Yippy! A kick in the head from my father who said, "You shouldn't have stayed in bed so late lazy bum!" Oh well, it’s fitting that he’d get in one more dig into my pocketbook that old scheister. Wasn't it bad enough that he left every dime to my step mother?

I arrived tardy to lunch to catch everyone at the final round of coffee just before the waitress gave up and wandered into the kitchen for good. It was a small group: my step mother, step brother/sister and my father’s cousin and her husband. My brother, a wise man, claimed the memorial service last autumn was all the goodbye he needed and he stayed put in Seattle for the occasion. I vacillated between sinister pleasure and shock at how frail my step-monster looked after only a mere year since I had seen her last. She of course, frail as ever and teetering on the brink of a fall every two steps, clutched MY arm while we walked from the restaurant. The little darling used this opportunity to exclaim, "You said you were a letter writer...I haven't gotten one letter from you in a year!" Emotional Terrorist. Naturally she said it loud enough for all the other relatives to stop, turn, and watch for my reaction. Patting her hand I just smiled and said, "Yes, you are right." and nothing more. I thought that succinctly conveyed about everything I could have elaborated upon.

We decided to reconvene at a park on the Wisconsin River for the ceremony (per say). A nice prayer and remembrances were murmured and I carefully re-opened the box and bag of cremated ashes to spread. After each person had all politely tossed a handful of ash into the river we realized we had to do something with the rest of the bag. Really - six handfuls doesn't make much of a dent. I suggested my step mother, rather than passing the bag around for a second helping as she was about to do (good grief, the man was not a casserole), instead simply pour the remaining cremains into the water. I envisioned a graceful process to finish it all off so we could get out of the mist turning to rain. Inevitably the wind picked up as she literally dumped, bag violently bouncing up and down ala handkerchief shake, the ashes flying everywhere...including splattering smack across me from collar to pants hem and across my dress shoes. Black clothing, white ash. Nice touch. Everyone gasped to see what I would do. Maniacal laughter threatened to erupt; however, I maintained a dignified gaze upon my clothes as I gingerly brushed what was left of my dead father off of me and into the water.

The finale to this debacle was my father's cousin back at the car with her lint brush feeling me up under the guise of cleaning off the back of my pants. She's mid-seventies. At least she knows what she still likes...

Tune in for the next episode, same place, same time next week.