A Memorial Day For Dad And Aunt Sue

I suppose we all have those memories that stop us in our emotional tracks. We all vary when it comes to emotions that make us think and ponder our own ending. After all, we must all face the inevitable. But even after we realize it, there’s a sense of denial; that it is a very distant event we have much time in which we must face it.

I wondered and fought with myself on what was occurring emotionally when the page was being turned with the passing of Aunt Sue and my father. It never dawned on me all through life that these people would leave this Earth, so I guess when they did, it was time to really grow up, once again.

A surreal reality chack.

My brother David and I arranged our father’s memorial at Lake Louisa Park on the same day as our Aunt Sue’s memorial at our cousin’s home on Saturday, January 28. The plan was to attend both while David was in Florida from Georgia, where he resides, in order to honor both his aunt and father. But before we could venture to cousin Jeff’s place for Aunt Sue’s memorial, we had to take a little trip to the location of dad’s residence before he moved to Georgia.

Our dad was cremated, just as his wife Lorraine had been. Dad saved her ashes for the sole purpose of being spread in to the lake together behind the home they shared before her death, in Mascotte, Florida. Dad asked that his ashes be spread in the lake with hers; David and I saw that the request was fulfilled.

After departing Lake Louisa, we directed our attention to the home in Mascotte. DJ, dad’s former neighbor, was more than accomodating. We chatted for a bit, then we launched a boat DJ loaned us. We paddled out a distance and sat a moment before David handed me one of the bags containing dad and Lorraine.

“I’m holding dad? Really? This is crazy, bro,” I said with disbelief. David nodded, “Yeah, it is.” He then handed me a knife to cut the bag open, and an eerie feeling enveloped me. The air was cool and breezy, the sun bright. The water was choppy and chilly. I was about to do something I had never imagined to have been possible.

None of it felt real.

On a more comedic note, David and I stepped through some very sludgy stuff on the bottom of the lake. We ran aground and had to walk the boat to the shore. DJ said to wash the peat moss off, otherwise it would begin itching. Something frightening crossed our minds when we wondered what it was that would have caused the itching, so we expedited the removal of the sticky substance.

Dad’s final wish to have his ashes scattered in to the lake with Lorraine was complete. It was the type of closure I didn’t count on, but it was closure, nevertheless.

Those who made it gathered on the shore for a spell. The intended time for the gathering was last-minute, so many weren’t able to make it since it was announced late. We figured that we’d do it the same day as Aunt Sue’s memorial, as it would be easier for those to come who traveled from afar.

We got in to our cars and headed to our cousin Jeff’s home in nearby Groveland. His mother Sue, and my aunt, had passed away the month before my dad, and his uncle. Jeff opened his home for the memorial, and what I would later realize, it was the perfect setting for the occasion.

It was great seeing all of my aunts, cousins, their children, and family friends. And as I’ve always lamented, it’s almost a shame that we must await a loss in order to enjoy what we have traditionally considered a necessity in the early days, years ago. I guess time has a way of doing that to families, as they spread out with their own lives and traditions.

A good amount of family and friends showed up for my Aunt Sue’s memorial. It was in the country, the mood was rather cheerful despite the occasion, and quite frankly, I couldn’t get over the assortment of animals Jeff has. It was like an adult petting zoo!

There were cows and bulls, a horse, a mule, a pig, dogs, and one blind cat. You can’t make this stuff up, folks. Jeff claimed they were all pets. And yes, even the grass-eating cattle in his pasture.

It was difficult leaving when I did, but it was time to depart before sunset. As we close the doors on some things, we must reach down deep to open new ones. The younger generation in our family are left to do just that now, but the memories of my dad and Aunt Sue will forever remain a door I can open from time to time when I want to visit with them in my mind and spirit.

Memories are a glorious thing. Memories bring them back to life.

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More pictures of the memorials and a couple of my dad before passing away, thanks to my cousin, Lisa. Strangely, I didn’t take as many as I’m accustomed to taking. If you’d like add your photos onto this online dedication to these wonderful people, please send them to me, as I can edit this any time.