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A Sons disastrous ashes scattering – a story shared

Thought I would share this, we et a lot of correspondence . This chap wished to told me his story, I have asked him and he doesn’t mind me sharing with you…

 

I stood on the edge of the cliff, the urn cradled in my trembling hands. The wind whipped through my hair, mirroring the storm of emotions raging within me. It was time to scatter my mother’s ashes, a final farewell to the woman who had shaped my life. Little did I know that this seemingly simple act would unravel into a series of unexpected mishaps, revealing the depth of my love and appreciation for her.

Taking a deep breath, I began to pour the ashes into the air, intending to let them gracefully disperse the ashes over the edge. But fate had other plans. A sudden gust of wind, as if mocking my feeble attempt at closure, swept the ashes right back at me. I coughed and spluttered, my eyes stinging from the onslaught. The majority of the ashes seemed to have settled upon my face, clothes, and even found their way into my open mouth. Now, utterly stunned and now covered in my mother’s remains, I stumbled backward, losing my footing on the slippery ground. I tumbled down the slope, my body hitting the ground with a thud. Lying there, gazing up at the overcast sky, a mixture of anger, sadness, and self-reflection washed over me. How had this solemn moment turned into such a disastrous mess?

As I slowly picked myself up, wiping the ashes from my face and clothes, I realised the absurdity of the situation. But amidst the frustration, a deeper realisation began to take hold. The ashes that now clung to me were more than just physical remnants. They were a poignant reminder of the woman who had nurtured and loved me unconditionally.

Covered in ashes and mud, I made my way home. The hot shower provided some relief, washing away the physical residue, but the emotional impact lingered. Memories flooded my mind—moments shared with my mother, both big and small. Her laughter, the warmth of her hugs, the scent of her cooking—things I had often taken for granted.

In that disastrous moment, I understood the depth of my love for her and the immense loss I now felt. She had been my anchor, my guiding light. It was her unwavering support and belief in me that had shaped the person I had become. I had failed to fully appreciate her while she was alive, and now, in this calamitous turn of events, I was forced to confront my own shortcomings.

Determined to honour her memory, I am embarking on a journey of remembrance. I returned to the spot and collected some of the ashes I had attempted to scatter, now I intend carry out my own little pilgrimage and scatter just a little of my mum around our favourite spots, not much just a little, not that it going to damage anything, just a little memory to my wonderful mum, bless her…

 

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