Blog : There's Trees (Just Farther Apart) — April 12, 2024

Bury the Ashes. Honor the Life.

North Dakota is under my skin. It's near my heart in a way no other territory could ever be. Technically it is my origin and that of my parents. I met the world in Fargo, ND, after my mom and dad were sent home from the Peace Corps. The island doctors could not guarantee my mother's survival nor mine in childbirth.

Yesterday, my mother and I drove through ND as survivors. 

We buried the ashes of my brother's body in the plot next to my father's grave. It wasn't designed to be a ceremony or a gathering--just a quiet moment for Mom to express her goodbyes. 

♡ Yet family came. ♡

Stories were shared. Farewell letters, after fluttering away in the wind, were gathered and added to the grave. A purple and gold bouquet (Minnesota Vikings, my brother's team) awaited its part in the goodbyes, becoming windswept as well, while the sound of a storm approached.

I watched my dear cousin kiss a tulip and place it in the dirt. I wept. 

My aunt knelt at the edge with hers--she, our godmother--and rose spry in the midst of canes and walkers. I wept. 

I placed the purplest flower and added confetti. "I was here," it said. I couldn't conjure words, but I left my mark and wept.

My son was on hand with agile strength. He did what none of us could do whether physical or emotional. By the time he covered our offerings, our tears were joined by rain.

We exited the cemetary as fast as we could--wheels over grass, canes trekking soil. I lugged my bag of preparedness--protecting tissues and toilet paper.

It happened so fast! 

We were back on the road. I gazed at prairie and farmland, a rare treat for one who usually drives solo. Three generations now on the boomerang route back to Fargo--this time to the hotel of my mom and stepdad--before my son and I return to home base at my late father's house.

I asked my mom to tell me again what I said when we moved to a farm in North Dakota. She missed the Minnesota trees.

"Oh mom. There's trees. They're just farther apart!"

My elementary optimism stuck with my mom. Now it sticks with me as I consider family and so many recent departures from Earth--especially for my mom. 

"Oh mom. There's family. They're just farther apart!"

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Homepage

Image
 LOGO surrounded by GHOSTWRITING | BUSINESS | SOUNDSCAPE | LIGHTSCRIBE Overlaid on a lightscribe image Menu: home | latest | blog | Guatemala* | Writer's Glass Penthouse * submenu: Stay in My Writer's Penthouse | Ingrid Helps | Friends & Family Trader Ingrid Writes With Words Ghostwriting | Business Writing Communications | Strategy Nonprofit Editorial Services Light Photography | Light-Writing Art (You'll see some on "writings and prompts.".) Sound Songwriter | Composer | Arranger (Former profession--but stay "tuned"!) Hello! I am Ingrid Skarstad Williams About Ingrid: I am a traveling ghostwriter and comm pro who has philanthropic and entrepreneurial adventures on the side. Where have I been? I have an eclectic background in the arts, marketing, public relations, and photography that has brought me around the world. My first love was music, and I performed, wrote, and traveled from 1986 to 2004 when I became a single mom. Communications rose throug...
Read more

Blog : Dirt Is Powerful (and You're Dirt)! — November 13, 2020

Image
  I’m not really a “flower person.” Blossoms went unidentified most of my life until a mystery bloom captured my heart and camera on a sidewalk in South Carolina. It wasn’t on display—quite the opposite, actually. Spilling over someone’s concrete barrier of a back yard, exotic flowers celebrated their slow-motion escape with a “Seussical” carnival suspended on vines. I could almost picture the “ Whos down in Whoville ” climbing on the whimsical explosion of color and taking a spin. I’m not sure how long I lingered with my lens drinking them in, but that moment marked me.  And no one I knew could tell me what they were. It took 10 years, many states, and thousands of flower photos to meet the curious blossom again. I was on official business—the delightful work of doing photography for a   botanic garden . If I had only looked at the displays, I would have missed the vibrant purple, raspberry, and lime green carousels just beginning to open on a bridge. Once again, they se...
Read more

Blog: September Writing Prompt - CENTER (September 26, 2022)

Image
  September is blurry. I won't bother with the dizziness of my schedule, but it's out of hand. I missed out on key things just because I couldn't juggle it all. This image hits home for that reason. It was chosen for my son when I compiled all the "Breathe" images in this series. I missed my son's 30th birthday . . . twice. Is that possible? Yes. The previous year, I bought a greatly reduced ticket to a writer's conference this year. I did not realize that it overlapped his birthday. We pushed the celebration back a couple of days. My mom and step-dad made plans to travel. I made plans to travel. After a whirlwind month in Guatemala, I had left no margin in my schedule. It was just "laundry and GO!" But I couldn't keep up. I left town late every time. I tried to drive through the night to get to my son. I slept in bits here and there in my car. Then I hit a wall. I couldn't do it anymore. I got a hotel at 4 a.m. and slept. When I woke, I ...
Read more