It took me slightly longer than I’d anticipated to get to the cemetery, so I ended up getting there at 5 minutes past the hour. Thus, according to the predictions of many, my father was in fact late for his own funeral.
I cried a little bit when I finally took a place beside my sister, facing the grave and the minister. Then it hit me that my Dad had always wanted to retire in the Penryn-Newcastle area, and there was a nice granite outcropping nearby which he would have greatly appreciated, and I’d done my part to insure that some family traditions go on even after death.
Life was beyond absurd at that moment, so my brain was happily following absurd tangents to mask the sorrow…or maybe it’s that I am still to numb to dwell on how much things hurt right now.
When considering my Dad, his easygoing demeanor and sense of humor, it’s easier to settle into a state of acceptance about it all.
The weather wasn’t unbearably hot. The service was simple and its ritual aspects were both practical and meaningful.
When the minister mentioned someone needed to come forward and place my Father’s ashes in the ground, I hesitated.
When it seemed like no one else felt a strong calling to do it, I stepped forward, picked up the urn and placed it in the hole that had been dug.
I cursed myself a bit because I should have had the hole dug on the left side. My Dad was left-handed. He would always sit to the left so he’d have room to use his hand freely, but I wasn’t as mindful as I ought to have been, and the hole had already been dug.
I placed the urn in the hole and settled it a bit because it was tilted upon some loose dirt at first. Everyone in the family took turns placing a shovelful of dirt in the hole. I was grateful to think I might be buried there one day, in much the same fashion.
Yep. Most likely the very same plot. They allow up to 6 urns in a casket-sized plot, even though, by our estimation, we could fit in at least twice that many.
I thought of the Tamaribuchi grave that’s in Kumamoto, and wondered if whether I ought to take some of my Dad’s ashes there. It’s on private property, no limits to how many are interred.
Would that be a meaningful thing? For whom? To me? To my Dad? Would it really be worth the time, effort and expense? I am not entirely sure. He always had wanted to go, and some of his Father’s remains are buried there…but he is not from there…not tied to that place in any real way. It frames like one of those epic journeys…but it’s not him. It’s not him actually getting to see and experience the land of his forebears.
I feel selfish in a way. How many times have I traveled to Japan? How was it I couldn’t manage to help him get there at least once? It’s hitting me that I won’t be able to dance in the Ondekomatsuri next Spring. I can still go to practice and help out, but since I’ve had a death in my family I wouldn’t be allowed to participate in the festival.
Meanwhile, my hair is significantly more grey this week. I must be stressed out. There’s a concert at Fairytale Town on Wednesday, and I think it will be hard being there…but it’s still good to drum…and I am grateful for the opportunity. The State Fair will be much harder, all things considered.
Here’s hoping for a good summer season and lots of happy folks.