Journal

The Ashes

The first ashes belonged to my husband. I kept them for 2 years. They sat there in the top of my cupboard. At first they made me feel miserable every time I opened the door but finally I stopped seeing them, they were just there.

It took me all of two years to get my act together enough to decide what to do with them. There is a holiday cottage just down the road from where I live now. We all used to go there for holidays when the boys were small and we lived in the city. It’s right on the edge of the ocean with a rocky promontory jutting out into the sea. The waves break over it at high tide. It’s very beautiful. So one late afternoon I gathered up our two reluctant teenage sons and we drove the few miles to the promontory. Neither of them wanted to come. They stood in a small protest meeting of two on the beach and watched me slip and slide over the rocks to the oceans edge. I had no spiritual beliefs at the time, so I pretty much just ripped open the box and chucked them unceremoniously into the ocean. At least I tried to. Just as I threw them a gust of wind caught them and blew them back in my face. Yeah – right. I jolly well deserved it. So there I stood, covered in sea spray and my husband’s ashes laughing and crying and pretty pissed off with the whole thing. My husband had a great sense of humour, one of the things I loved most about him. I think he would have enjoyed it.

The second ashes belonged to my mother. Just the two of us one sunny morning. The same place. She was 89 when she died, in her bed, in my house, just as I had promised her. I loved her dearly but we had said our good byes a long time ago. I just put her ashes carefully into a pool and watched the tide gently wash them out to sea. It took quite a long time. Quiet and peaceful, just as she had died. No prayers but a great sense of peace.

The third ashes belonged to my son. You might reasonably expect to deal with your mother’s ashes and even your husband’s but your child is another matter. I was too scared to leave them in the house for very long. Every time I saw them I wanted to be physically sick. Even when I couldn’t see them they dominated my thoughts. The mortal remains of my child in a small cardboard box. For some reason it had been wrapped in orange striped paper. Like a gift. It was in the house for one week, between the cremation and the memorial service. In the evening, after the service was over, his brother, two of his friends and I went back to the promontory. As the sun set we cast his ashes into the sea, held hands and prayed. Held each other and cried as the sea gulls cried with us overhead.

I’m getting better at doing this but I can’t do it again. The next one to be thrown off the promontory had better be me.

This is the speech I gave at my son's memorial service. Not something everyone would be interested in but seemed to go with the post I put up today. It's not long as such things go. I gave the whole thing dry eyed at the time. Makes me cry buckets now.

Psalm 127 verse 3

3 Sons are a heritage from the LORD,
       children a reward from him.

Job 1:21

"Naked I came from my mother's womb,
       and naked I will depart. [c]
       The LORD gave and the LORD has taken away;
       may the name of the LORD be praised."

The first thing I would like to express is the deep gratitude I have for our heavenly Father in the manner in which he called my son home. After a number of very difficult years he was finally happy both in his personal life and his work. He had no outstanding emotional debts and was as close to the Lord as he had ever been.

Sean didn’t suffer and the period he spent in hospital allowed me to make peace with his passing. If Sean had died by the side of the road I might have been a very angry woman but the time he allowed us together let me feel the love our Father has for all of us when Sean finally left us.

The Lord commands us to teach our children but we all learn from them as well. I helped Sean learn to walk but he helped me learn to walk in the ways of the Lord.

During his life my beloved son Sean gave me the most precious gift that a child can give his mother - a gift that has helped me accept that I will never see him again on this earth..

 Without Sean’s deep devotion to our Lord and his unswerving determination that all his family should be saved I would be in despair at the knowledge that he was finished, gone and that there would never be any hope of seeing him again.

Because of his love for us I can rest assured that we will be reunited in a perfect world with our Lord and Savior.

So I have a message from my heart to all of you who are evangelizing to your loved ones – never give up.

Give them no peace until they accept the Lord even if they reject you time and time again for years. Keep at it until they are sick of the sound of your voice. Keep at when they are bored, rude and make fun of you.

And those of you who are rejecting their words remember that the time will come when you will need, desire and have to have the hope of comfort and everlasting life they are offering you as a gift.

 A gift of pure love and the knowledge that you never have to bear unbearable sorrow alone.

Every one of us alive today, young and old alike, owes the Lord a death and only He has the knowledge of the time and manner of our passing. If you are considering dedicating your life to Jesus the right time is right now.

Because I tell you if even one soul is saved as the result of his death Sean would have considered his life well spent.