We took a family hike this weekend.

Just the four of us. My Mom, my sister, myself, and my dad’s ashes.

I woke up Saturday morning with the feeling that we needed to do something with the ashes which had been sitting in the house since July. We couldn’t decide whether or not to put them in an urn with a headstone in the cemetery at Bible College, or scatter them somewhere. I went to talk to my sister who had been thinking the same thing. My mom agreed, it was time for some closure.

We drove out to the lake, where he taught us to swim and where we relaxed on many summer days together. We had a boat on this lake and whenever we could wring him away from work for a few hours we’d rush out with our cooler, our suits and our sunscreen and have a wonderful time as a family.

This would be Dad’s last trip to the lake, we’d go as four but three would walk back. We started this journey as a family with four players, but we’ll finish it as three.

We parked on a long forgotten boat launch and walked a few yards in to the woods. Mom carried the box they sent us dad’s ashes in. Fog was still rolling off the lake and we stood for a minute admiring its quiet beauty. We all decided in unison that this was the place, and we took a breath and scattered his ashes.

It was beautiful to watch, we smiled as he was returned to nature, finally at peace and resting in a place he loved so much.

We didn’t cry, we just stood there for a few minutes and watched as the water moved in the slow breeze. The lake was moving, the water was forging a path to a different place and so we were also. We were moving on from what had been, to what is now. With a sense of accomplishment that we had accomplished one more step on this uncomfortable journey we have to take together we walked up the boat ramp to the car…

and went to Tudors for a good breakfast.

all in Memory of Dad.