My bags are packed and I’m ready to go.
God rest the souls of Mary Travers and Ray Reynolds
Today I opened Ray’s ashes. I had to because I wanted to take some with me. It was a solemn doing, and I had the best cry I’d had in weeks: A deep, guttural cry that leaves you nauseous and sleepy at the end. But I did it. A little of Ray is going with me in six different baggies. Each one destined for a different corner of the globe, and each one of them, I hope, is somewhere he’d want to be.
How can I know that? His instructions were to be cremated, beyond that, I’m on my own. I’ve kept the ashes in my living room for a year now. Not in the corner somewhere, but right in the middle of the living room. Jill and I took some of them to Kaua’i in January and I’ve spread some around our home. But for the next phase I’m thinking the following would be fitting:
- Near the Opera House in Sydney
- Bangor Wot
- Randazzo, Sicily (his grandparents’ hometown)
- Pack Family Cemetery in KY
- Near his mother and father in WI
Sorry for such a morbid post, but I have to think about these things. And if you guys are going to go on the rest of the trip with me, you have to help “carry the baggage” now.
But, back to the ashes. This is pretty serious. I have six little baggies (yes, I know, I have eight destinations above, but I’m still working on details.). Will I get stopped by Security, Customs, or some third-world bureaucrat that will try to confiscate my precious lode?
This I don’t know. But I am totally convinced that the tongue cremated in those ashes was so smooth that it could have certainly gotten us out of any jam; it did several times with “authorities.” This one should be no exception, and on this I am totally reliant.
So, here we go Ray. I remember your comment when you saw this scene, it was “OH Dieu” HA. HA. HA.” I can’t hear your laugh anymore and for that I also cry.