October 1st started off extremely early for me, last minute
exam cram, an exam, and some happy birthday phone calls. Before I knew it, it was
2pm and it was the first point of the day that I comprehended that it was the
first of the month. For the past
16 months, the first of the month has been consumed with Dad’s anniversary of
his passing. This is the first month that it did not completely overwhelm my
mind for the entirety of the day. I am not going to lie, that realization sent me into a
complete tizzy. So many thoughts raced through my head. “What does this mean?!”
“Am I starting to forget about him?!” “Is this what closure is!?” I knew that
none of the above was true, yet it is where my mind goes in my hyper emotional
state(s)…complete panic and over exaggeration.
Around March of this year I started to get an
itch to spread Dad’s ashes. I don’t know what started the urge, but I wanted to
be able to do it as a family. For those of you that have never been through the
cremation process, there are many different options. Well, we ended up with at
least 6 different containers of Dad’s ashes…various sized boxes, candles, photo
albums, lockets…you name it! After awhile I realized that they were just going
to sit in the big wooden box in my closet until we chose to do something with
them. So in August, the Alexander family traveled to Breckenridge, CO for a weekend family getaway to spread Dad's ashes.
It was suggested by a local that we take the gondola up to
the very top of the mountain, hang a left, and then from there we would know
what to do. So up we went as a family that Saturday and boy was the ride
beautiful. Breckenridge has got to be one of the most beautiful places I have
ever been! We didn’t scope out a spot before hand, but I think that was
the master plan God and Dad had for us. When we arrived at the top we stared at the hundreds of people at a beer and music festival. It was a moment where every was thinking "shit, now what?!" but didn't really say it. Well we decided to make it an adventure and do some hiking to find a hidden spot. On our hike up the mountain, once we had a visual of
where we wanted to go, my cousin James found a rubber “O". Then, not 20
seconds later there was a golf ball right there in the grass in the spot we wanted to do our mini ceremony. If that was not a
sign of Dad’s presence I don’t know what is, it was one of the most exhilarating spiritual feelings I have ever experienced. To be surrounded by God, Dad, and family in the most beautiful place I have been was simply indescribable. We all took turns taking our time with Dad and spreading his ashes. There really are no words, but I could not have asked for a more perfect afternoon.
 |
| Selfies on the gondola |
 |
| "The Spot" |
 |
| Sissy |
 |
| The Alexander/McShea family |
Still to this day (a whole 2 months later), people say to me "that must have been such great closure". [Insert punch in the face here]. This has never set well with me as you can tell by the punch in the face. The grieving process is NOT perfectly outlined by "the seven steps of grieving". It is a common misconception that when you lose someone you grieve, you accept, and then you get over it and move on. NO! It is this crazy up and down roller coaster that some days I can't even buckle my seat belt fast enough to hold on. Honestly, I don't even know if my friends and family can buckle theirs fast enough to keep up with my emotions! I read a book by C.S. Lewis called "A Grief Observed" around this time. It is his personal journal of how his faith was tested and the various obstacles he encountered after losing his wife. He says:
"For in grief nothing 'stays put'. One keeps on emerging from a phase, but it always recurs. Round and round. Everything repeats. Am I going in circles, or dare I hope I am on a spiral?"
In grief, nothing does stay put. Reminders of our loved ones resurface at the most random moments and it is so important to live in those reminders instead of closing them out. I hope you never feel like you have to come to closure at a certain point in your life, or ever. Grief is always moving, whether it be in the same direction or not.
 |
| Always with us |
