Ashes to ocean ... or not

We experienced yet another family adventure this weekend, rivaling those of the Griswold family. It all goes back to January, when my great aunt, Terry, passed away. Since then we've been cleaning out her things and waiting for a chance to get the whole family together to celebrate her life.

June 12th was the date finally set. The plan was to get the family together and since Terry was cremated we would gently spread her ashes in the Pacific Ocean. She lived in Pacific Grove/Monterey, practically on the beach; it was where she called home. After our "spreading" we had a lovely gathering planned with Terry's best friends and family in her favorite restaurant. All in all, the recipe for a beautiful day.



Which takes us to Saturday. The family gathered and enjoyed some lunch together before finding a discrete location for the "ceremony." It was a warm, sunny day in Pacific Grove which really brings the crowds down to the coastline. The leader of the expedition, one of Terry's friends, took us to a "deserted cove." Which was actually fairly busy.

Since ash spreading without a permit is illegal, we huddled together in a group so onlookers couldn't see what we were doing. The idea was to get the box of ashes open so each person could take a small amount in a cup and spread them over the water (and over the edge of the rocks where we were standing was a group of scuba divers.) This was getting better by the second.

My dad noticed the box of ashes was screwed shut. After finding a screwdriver he began work on the screws. Meanwhile I'm wondering why Terry was in this wooden box when she was originally placed in a metal one. Grandma said she couldn't remember transferring Terry to this box; she would have remembered unscrewing it open. But this is the box she brought down with her from Alameda (she's had possession of her sister's remains since she was cremated.)

Dad shook the box. No sound. He said "this feels really light to me."

Finally, he gets the box open and we see it's empty. On the back is a sticker with my grandfather's name, who passed away and was sent out to sea three years ago. It was his box. Grandma had brought the wrong one.

And we all said (mostly through tears of laughter) " ..... so .... where the heck is Terry?"



We all got a good laugh and my mom made plans to come back down next month with Grandma to help her spread the ashes then, on Terry's birthday. The rest of the afternoon was spent with a lovely group of people who all shared their fondest memories of Terry. She was quite a woman, and it was quite a wake. Even in death, she's still making us laugh. And we're still not sure where she is.