We buried your ashes on your 66th birthday.
That happened by coincidence. All 5 of us were only there for 18 hours together. But I guess it was fitting.
Originally Mom wanted to bury you in the blackberry place by the old logging railroad. But that morning she asked if maybe we should just bury you at the cabin, since Mark and I were going to keep it in the family. While I know you really loved the farm more than the cabin, it seemed fitting as well.
Your ashes and both wedding rings are buried near your old sailboat. There is no marker, no rock or symbol or tree planted over top of you. I pointed out this meant we’d end up tramping over you with the canoe or firewood or what-have-you. Everyone agreed that was fine. And fitting. You will be a silent helper in the ground with these tasks.
You made me smile while we were there. Tom told Mom a story about how I fall asleep reading and then wake up very indigent exclaiming, “I’M STILL READING” if he tries to put away my book or turn out the light. Mom laughed very hard and said, “Just like her father!”
I hope I am like you in many ways. I would love to know that I have your brains, your courage, and your heart. But hearing that I have your fanatical and annoying bedtime reading habit was wonderful. And fitting.