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Sep. 28th, 2005 12:23 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thejunipertreeLast night, I completely broke down my altar and scrubbed everything clean. I crept out of the apartment in the wee hours of the night, down to the nearest crossroads, and deposited some offerings that should have been left quite some time ago. It had recently rained that evening, so everything was wet. I walked barefoot down to the corner, relishing the smell of Autumn.
Last night, I washed every ashtray I own. This is an awful lot of ashtrays.
Last night, I sat at the kitchen table and read for two hours.
Last night, I made dinner for the Engineer and I. Kielbasa and sauerkraut, with mashed potatoes. This is one of the best things I make, if you ask me. I don't cook it a lot because after a while, sauerkraut kind of burns into your brain, but on the occasion I decide to make it, it's always well received.
And last night, after I'd done everything I could possibly do and not look like I was stalling, I went into my bedroom closet, took down the cardboard box containing my mother's cremains, and opened it.
This was the first time this box has been opened since it was handed to me at her funeral last year. It's been sitting, plastic bagged and twist-tied, on the second shelf of my closet. I've been doing my best to pretend that it wasn't there, despite the fact that every time I open the closet doors, there the box is.
I've seen ashes before, I'm no stranger to that sort of thing, just not in this amount. There was probably about five to seven pounds worth, neatly collected away in another plastic bag, twist-tied, inside of the box. It still amazes me, in turns, how much and how little these remains actually are. A hundred pound woman reduced to five to seven pounds of ash.
I collected a plastic cup full, then wrapped that in tin foil, with a black rubber band around the rim for extra protection. There really wasn't anything else I could have used, to be quite honest. But, I was transporting this cup on an hour and a half drive to Cape May, and it really wouldn't do to have it spill. I love my mother, but the idea of having her ashes spread all over the interior of my car is not one that fills me with joy and song.
Thee Pumpkin Girl was to be my travelling companion and after a bit of a hitch in my plans to pick her up at ten o'clock in the morning (I woke up last and was rather stupid-headed throughout the morning), we set off with two different sets of directions and a full tank of gas.
We were quiet for the most part on the way down, with nothing but the shrieking hum of wind through the windows, occasional CD changes, and my bad singing to keep us occupied. I saw a turkey buzzard questing for food along the side of the highway and, later on, three hawks take flight with their wing shadows large and dizzying in my vision. The cup of my mother's ashes sat between us, in the black plastic cup holder I have wedged between the seats.
Our destination was Sunset Beach, in Cape May. My favourite place in the entire world, which I told TPG as we got out of the car and heard the gulls screaming over head. I saw the water, the waves rushing in, and my heart began pounding loudly in my chest. It had been far too long since I'd touched sea water.
I spread out my purple bat and spiderweb fleece beach blanket and staked the edges down with my bag and my shoes, TPG spread out her own blanket and we sat there with my mother between us, again. The beach was close to being empty, as it usually is, this isn't the kind of spot where people go to swim or sunbathe. The sand is rocky, full of small and sharp pebbles, the water is rough, and the undertow is scarily strong. But, it's the very tip of New Jersey and there's a sunken concrete ship just off the shore. And you can spend the day hunting for Cape May diamonds, something I teach everyone I bring here to do.
We sat like that for awhile, with our legs out in front of us and the sun warming our faces. The wind pushed my braids around crazily and lighting cigarettes was an exercise in creativity. I dug in the sand with my feet and picked through stones that caught my eye. Began to eat a cookie, but decide it would be better to rile the sea gulls up instead. At one point, I had about twelve of them camped out around us, with their sleek heads screeching about empty bellies, and when the cookie was gone, I started in on a green apple. Biting pieces of it out, I'd suck the juice for a few seconds, then throw it to the gulls. When the apple was finally gone, they settled around us, settling their little birdy bodies into the sand and looking up expectantly whenever either of us shifted.
TPG took photos of all manner of things: the gulls fighting over food, the sunken ship, she and I looking harried and wind-blown. I walked down to the water to wash the green apple juice off my fingers and wound up going in knee deep, entranced by the waves. Came back to the blanket for another cigarette, then the two of us headed to the water with my mother in her blue plastic cup.
The tide was just starting to roll in and the waves were beginning to get big. I wanted to get as far into the water as possible to scatter the ashes, but the undertow sucked at my legs and feet, putting me off balance and bringing me to just this side of nervous. Thigh deep in the water, with my skirt dragging through seaweed, I flung the ashes from the cup in a slow arc during a lull in the waves. Turning around to face TPG, I was immediately struck in the back by a huge crash of water that almost sent me to my knees. Now dripping wet to my waist, I looked at her and began to laugh.
We played in the water for about an hour, taunting the waves and shrieking with laughter whenever one of us got hit with a big one. I fell over several times and now completely soaked, decided to hell with it and didn't even try to avoid them. I let them strike me full on, no dodging and no jumping out of the way. I threw the spray in the air and watched it shine in the sun. I sat in the surf and dug a hole, had a little crab wash up against my leg, and found a heart-shaped stone in the debris.
Tasting salt in my mouth, I couldn't be sure if it was from the sea water or tears.
Last night, I washed every ashtray I own. This is an awful lot of ashtrays.
Last night, I sat at the kitchen table and read for two hours.
Last night, I made dinner for the Engineer and I. Kielbasa and sauerkraut, with mashed potatoes. This is one of the best things I make, if you ask me. I don't cook it a lot because after a while, sauerkraut kind of burns into your brain, but on the occasion I decide to make it, it's always well received.
And last night, after I'd done everything I could possibly do and not look like I was stalling, I went into my bedroom closet, took down the cardboard box containing my mother's cremains, and opened it.
This was the first time this box has been opened since it was handed to me at her funeral last year. It's been sitting, plastic bagged and twist-tied, on the second shelf of my closet. I've been doing my best to pretend that it wasn't there, despite the fact that every time I open the closet doors, there the box is.
I've seen ashes before, I'm no stranger to that sort of thing, just not in this amount. There was probably about five to seven pounds worth, neatly collected away in another plastic bag, twist-tied, inside of the box. It still amazes me, in turns, how much and how little these remains actually are. A hundred pound woman reduced to five to seven pounds of ash.
I collected a plastic cup full, then wrapped that in tin foil, with a black rubber band around the rim for extra protection. There really wasn't anything else I could have used, to be quite honest. But, I was transporting this cup on an hour and a half drive to Cape May, and it really wouldn't do to have it spill. I love my mother, but the idea of having her ashes spread all over the interior of my car is not one that fills me with joy and song.
Thee Pumpkin Girl was to be my travelling companion and after a bit of a hitch in my plans to pick her up at ten o'clock in the morning (I woke up last and was rather stupid-headed throughout the morning), we set off with two different sets of directions and a full tank of gas.
We were quiet for the most part on the way down, with nothing but the shrieking hum of wind through the windows, occasional CD changes, and my bad singing to keep us occupied. I saw a turkey buzzard questing for food along the side of the highway and, later on, three hawks take flight with their wing shadows large and dizzying in my vision. The cup of my mother's ashes sat between us, in the black plastic cup holder I have wedged between the seats.
Our destination was Sunset Beach, in Cape May. My favourite place in the entire world, which I told TPG as we got out of the car and heard the gulls screaming over head. I saw the water, the waves rushing in, and my heart began pounding loudly in my chest. It had been far too long since I'd touched sea water.
I spread out my purple bat and spiderweb fleece beach blanket and staked the edges down with my bag and my shoes, TPG spread out her own blanket and we sat there with my mother between us, again. The beach was close to being empty, as it usually is, this isn't the kind of spot where people go to swim or sunbathe. The sand is rocky, full of small and sharp pebbles, the water is rough, and the undertow is scarily strong. But, it's the very tip of New Jersey and there's a sunken concrete ship just off the shore. And you can spend the day hunting for Cape May diamonds, something I teach everyone I bring here to do.
We sat like that for awhile, with our legs out in front of us and the sun warming our faces. The wind pushed my braids around crazily and lighting cigarettes was an exercise in creativity. I dug in the sand with my feet and picked through stones that caught my eye. Began to eat a cookie, but decide it would be better to rile the sea gulls up instead. At one point, I had about twelve of them camped out around us, with their sleek heads screeching about empty bellies, and when the cookie was gone, I started in on a green apple. Biting pieces of it out, I'd suck the juice for a few seconds, then throw it to the gulls. When the apple was finally gone, they settled around us, settling their little birdy bodies into the sand and looking up expectantly whenever either of us shifted.
TPG took photos of all manner of things: the gulls fighting over food, the sunken ship, she and I looking harried and wind-blown. I walked down to the water to wash the green apple juice off my fingers and wound up going in knee deep, entranced by the waves. Came back to the blanket for another cigarette, then the two of us headed to the water with my mother in her blue plastic cup.
The tide was just starting to roll in and the waves were beginning to get big. I wanted to get as far into the water as possible to scatter the ashes, but the undertow sucked at my legs and feet, putting me off balance and bringing me to just this side of nervous. Thigh deep in the water, with my skirt dragging through seaweed, I flung the ashes from the cup in a slow arc during a lull in the waves. Turning around to face TPG, I was immediately struck in the back by a huge crash of water that almost sent me to my knees. Now dripping wet to my waist, I looked at her and began to laugh.
We played in the water for about an hour, taunting the waves and shrieking with laughter whenever one of us got hit with a big one. I fell over several times and now completely soaked, decided to hell with it and didn't even try to avoid them. I let them strike me full on, no dodging and no jumping out of the way. I threw the spray in the air and watched it shine in the sun. I sat in the surf and dug a hole, had a little crab wash up against my leg, and found a heart-shaped stone in the debris.
Tasting salt in my mouth, I couldn't be sure if it was from the sea water or tears.
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(no subject)
Date: 2005-09-28 04:45 am (UTC)*hug*
(no subject)
Date: 2005-09-28 04:49 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-09-28 06:05 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-09-28 06:27 am (UTC)Your recent posts about the ocean being your first love struck a chord with me and were a huge part of my recent walkabout. I posted some pics in LJ, but the link points to many more ocean photos, although the "other" coast.
I don't know if this is totally innappropriate to say, but if you would like some of your mother's ashes to be on this coast (regardless of where), let me know and I would be honored to make a pilgrimage, and/or host you in a visit.
I have another friend on my list who has lost her mother this year, and I've thought of introducing you to each other, but wasn't sure if that was a stupid thought or not.
In any case, I feel connected in many ways to all that you write and feel and I miss you, even though we didn't spend that much time together before I moved.
Bleh, Imadork.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-10-13 04:29 am (UTC)I've been meaning to get back to this for aeons, but my brain has been crazy a-fire and I've been unable.
That being said, I would love it if you were willing to bring some of my mother's ashes to the Pacific. She never made it there when she was alive, or even flew in a plane for that matter, and the idea of her being bi-coastal makes me smile.
Thank you so much for offering to do this for me. I would come there myself, but funds are extraordinarily tight and I have no vacation time. If I get this shiny new job I've been interviewing for though, I will have ten days after the start of the new year and you can be goddamn sure I will use some of them to come see you.
<3
(no subject)
Date: 2005-10-13 05:26 am (UTC)Anywhoo.. I have been up and down the entire west coast more times than I can remember in my life and there are so many amazing spots. I have plans to head back up to Northern California later this month. I'm sure that I'll be headed up a few times before the end of the year, and then I'll be up in Oregon in December and again in the Spring. Email me at iam@anisolate.com or me@sinisher.com and I'll send you my address. If there is a certain type of spot or place that you've heard of, just let me know. My happiest times are when I'm wandering and for it to have added meaning would be my priviledge.
I hope you do get the big money happy job, but regardless, you are always welcome to visit.
Also, if you are interested at all, my friend Jenn Rose is the person I was telling you about that also lost her mother. I feel retarded when I try to explain, but as best as I can say, both of you had this relationship with your mothers that I both envied and admired, and that you lost them just fucks with me more than I have right to say I'm affected. It affirms my disillusion with any sort of universal plan or justice... and at the same time makes me smile at the thought of something real enough to mourn the loss. I really feel like an insensitive moron saying this, but my reasons for exposing my moronity is that you are both just two of the most interesting, cool, witty women I know, and that you have both had this similar experience, and have written about it similarly, makes me feel like I'm supposed to at least offer the connection. So, her screen name is
And I miss you. And I miss the seasons. And I miss being drunk and silly with you and Miss Robin at the loft.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-10-17 07:50 pm (UTC)An email is coming your way, miss.
I don't know of any specific areas near you, so I would reckon that you just picking one of your favourites would suffice. :)
Also, if you are interested at all, my friend Jenn Rose is the person I was telling you about that also lost her mother.
I would be interested. There aren't a whole hell of a lot of people in my life who really understand everything I've gone through and am continuing to go through. It's always welcome to have another.
And you're not a moron. :P
(no subject)
Date: 2005-09-28 03:05 pm (UTC)*
Date: 2005-09-28 07:19 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-09-28 11:10 pm (UTC)