I still have ashes under my fingernails.

So, it turns out scattering ashes in real life is absolutely nothing like it is in the movies. They do not waft gently on the breeze, nor are they particularly easy to get out of the container. In point of fact, they resemble not so much ashes as grey sand with tiny bits of grey shell mixed in. They're also heavy. I suppose it makes sense that a 250 pound human being compacted down to a 4x6x8" space might be a little heavy, but it's still a shock when someone places that box into your hands and you find out that it's not at all like a box of fireplace ashes and is in fact about 15 pounds worth of stone weight. Seriously, it may as well be a lead brick, for the weight of it. That was my first shock of the day.

The service was nice, if sparsely attended. There were 30-50 people there. The minister had known Daddy for about 35 years, so he spoke well and personally. I said something clumsy and brief, and my Uncle Charlie, my dad's baby brother, told a story or 2. Then we sang Old Rugged Cross (always a safe one), and retired to the fellowship hall for a reception. My stepmother and siblings were there, and that was nice. I saw my friend Tommy Oliver, who I hadn't seen in 30 years, and that was wonderful. It was so great to see him, and it means a lot that he came. I wish he'd stayed longer, but he had to go back to work. I also saw 2 of my old teachers, Mrs. Stuteville, who taught me math in 8th grade, and her BFF Ms. Jarrell, who taught me HomeEc at another school in 9th & 10th, and who was a real lifesaver to me in those years. Both of them are loving, wonderful women I am grateful for knowing, and 2 of my favorite teachers. I wish they'd stayed for the reception, as well. I was looking forward to the chance to visit with them.

After an hour or so, the family left to go back to the farm and scatter Dad's ashes. I asked the minister how to do it, and he said well, most people just used their hands or emptied directly from the container. Emptying that way seemed pretty much like emptying out a container of trash to me, so I chose to use my hands. We got back to the farm, and me, my brothers, their significant others, my uncles, cousins, 1 stepbrother, and Daddy's cousin Joyce went down to the river in the back pasture to scatter, and when we got there, I got made the de facto ash disperser, whether I was up for it or not. I asked Darth Brother did he want to do it, and I guess he saw my face, coz he said well, he'd help if I wanted him to. I said if he wanted to help, I'd appreciate it, so he stepped up, and so did my stepbrother. Yoda Brother and I opened the box, and then my Uncle John said a really nice prayer (he's a minister). Then I reached into the box, which is where I got my second shock of the day: human remains do not break down into ash as you most likely think of it. As I said before, they look like sand and tiny bits of shell, and their consistency is that of the part of an ocean beach where the waves are washing in - very dense, very compact. Except that they are totally dry. But the top layer looks like silt, so you think it's going to be soft, and then when you try to reach into it, you find you have to really dig - I actually broke a freaking nail doing it. Seriously, it was shocking.

But I grabbed a handful, and then so did my stepbrother, and then my brother, and they both got the same shocked looks on their faces as I know I must have, and my stepbrother even said "oh, wow," in a strangled tone, and then quickly turned away and let his go, and then he broke down and had to walk a bit away to compose himself. My brother said something under his breath when he reached in, and he let his go too, and then everyone just looked at me, and no one would take any. So I took a few more handfuls, but you seriously can not grasp how many ashes are in a box like that until you're in that situation - I mean it, it's like a neverending supply. I finally had to give up and tilt the box so that I was holding the top of the bag in one hand and supporting the box in the other, and tried to gently sift the ash from the box, but no matter how well you do that or how the wind is blowing - and we had a good stiff breeze - the bits of bone still fall to the ground, which is just unsettling in the extreme. I mean unsettling. There's your father, on the ground. It just isn't right. So I just kept walking and feeling like I was doing it completely wrong and stupid, and everyone but Darth Brother and Stepbrother stayed back where we started, and after I'd gone about 50', I turned and asked my brother what I should do next, and he didn't know either. Then Stepbrother said that we were standing just above the point in the river that my dad liked to swim in, so I asked if we should go down the bank and finish there, and they didn't know what else to do, so the 3 of us did that, and they stood at the top of the bank while I scattered ashes on the sand there and then walked to the river's edge and let the wind carry the rest downwind, which it did pretty well, and it was a really pretty spot, with an old fallen and hollowed out tree and everything. I looked down to where all the bits of bone had fallen into the river and sunk to the rocks along the bank, where they were pretty bright against the green algae, and I told myself well, it was okay they were in the river, because it was sort of like they were gold, and while that was bothersome, it was better than on the ground. Then I realized I only had 1/3 of the box left, and I want to bury some under a tree on the property and put a marker there, so the 3 of us sealed the ashes back up and then climbed back up to where everyone else was and had to be careful not to step where we'd scattered ashes - you could clearly see the heavier grains and the bone. Let me tell you, having to warn your brother not to step on you dad is not for the faint of heart; it was yet another surreal moment in the day. When we rejoined everyone, we stood telling family stories a while and took some group shots, and then broke it up to all head our separate ways. There's more to it, but I'm going to skip it, as it was all estate-related about the need to buy more cottonseed for the cows ASAP and get them to market, etc. Basically we all broke apart and headed home. I stopped a few times to take pictures from the roadside, which helped, but jeebus, what a freaking bad day.

And I still have Daddy's ashes under my nails. I had to dig so hard into them that they're way under the nailbed, and I just can't get them out.