While visiting with my dad today I brought up an awkward topic, having to write everything down on a tablet since his hearing is all but non existent. I wrote down, “Where do you want your ashes scattered”, not a normal question to ask except dad’s in hospice now and heaven only knows how long we’ll get to visit.
Back in August when my mother died she’d left very specific instructions; she wished her ashes to be scattered among the Mangroves that were found along the river and so that’s what we did. Dad is rapidly getting closer to the ‘dropping off place’. He hasn’t given such a request, only that he wants to be cremated. I’ve no intention of placing him on the mantle place in a Biscotti Jar or putting him in the closet on the top shelf next to an old worn out pair of blue jeans.
He took his time reading the question and shrugged his shoulders with the universal answer, “How should I know”. I wrote some more...“How about on a golf course? Maybe we can put you on a fairway; or in your case, the rough or in a sand trap?” Again he read the tablet and smiled back at me while nodding his head. He hasn’t lost his sense of humor.
So if you read about some fool getting arrested for trespassing on a golf course please remember I would be carrying out my father’s last wishes. It’s difficult saying goodbye, very difficult, a lot like dad trying to stay on the fairways.